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The Chuzzlewits 



Or, Tom Pinch 

A Dramatization in Five Acts of Charles Dickens' 
famous novel " Martin Chuzzlewit '^ 



By 
FRANK E. FOWLE 



NOTE 

This play may be performed by amateurs free of royalty and 
without express permission. The professional stage-rights are, 
however, strictly reserved, and performance by professional 
actors, given in advertised places of amusement and for profit, is 
forbidden. Persons who may wish to produce this play publicly 
and professionally should apply to the author in care of the 
publishers. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
1916 



The Chuzzlewits 



CHARACTERS 

Mr. Seth Pecksniff, architect. "A moral man, an exem- 
plary man, with a Fortunatus's purse of good sentiments on his in- 
side." 

Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit. •• The face of the old man was so 
sharpened by the wanness and cunning of his own hfe that it 
seemed to cut him a passage through the crowded room." 

Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit, his son. " This fine young man had 
all the incUnation to be a profligate of the first water and only 
lacked the one good trait in the common catalogue of debauched 
vice — open handedness." 

Old Martin Chuzzlewit. " Universal self! Was there noth- 
ing of its shadow in the history of Martin Chuzzlewit, on his own 
showing? " 

Martin Chuzzlewit, his grandson. " Young — one and twenty, 
perhaps — and handsome." 

Tom Pinch. "An ungainly, awkward looking man ; far from 
handsome, but notwithstanding his attire and his clumsy figure, 
one would not have been disposed, unless Mr. Pecksniff said so, 
to consider him a bad fellow by any means." 

Mr. Montague Tigg. " He was very bold and very mean ; 
very swaggering and very slinking ; very much like a man who 
might have been something better, and unspeakably hke a man 
who deserved to be something worse." 

Old Chuffey. " He looked as if he had been put away and 
forgotten half a century before, and somebody had just found him 
in a lumber closet." 




Copyright, 191 5, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
©CID 4 2435 



CHARACTERS 

Bailey. •• An undersized boy ; and yet he winked the winks, 
and thought the thoughts, and did the deeds, and said the sayings 
of an ancient man." 

Mr. Mould. " He looked as a man might, who, in the very 
act of smacking his lips over choice old wine, tried to make believe 
it was physic." 

Lewsome. "A young man — dark and not ill-looking — dimly 
finding fear and horror everywhere." 

Mr. Nadgett. " Mr. Nadgett's eyes were seldom fixed on any 
other object than the ground, the clock, or the fire ; but every 
button on his coat might have been an eye : he saw so much." 

Mr. Moddle, " A dismal young gentleman," and no wonder. 

Two Police Officers. 

Mary Graham. "All the charms of youth and maidenhood 
clustered on her gentle brow." 

Mercy Pecksniff. " She was the most arch and at the same 
time the most artless creature that you can possibly imagine. It 
was her great charm." 

Charity Pecksniff. " With her strong sense, and her mild 
yet not reproachful gravity, was so well named and did so well set 
off and illustrate her sister." 

Sarah Gamp. " Like most persons who have attained to great 
eminence in their profession, she took to hers very kindly ; inso- 
much that setting aside her natural predilections as a woman, she 
went to a lying-in or laying-out with equal zest and relish." 

Betsy Prig, a frietid of Sarah's. "One of the best of cree- 
turs." 

Jane. Pecksniff's servant. 

Maid. 



HINTS AS TO COSTUMES, MAKE-UP, Etc. 

Pecksniff. Smooth face — grizzled gray hair, brushed off his 
forehead and standing bolt upright — heavy drooping arched eye- 
brows. Plain black clothes — double eye-glass on cord — high col- 
lar, long points — white cravat, fastened behind — large handkerchief. 
Manner : soft and oily. 

Anthony Chuzzlewit. A mean, covetous looking old man ; 
smooth face — sharp features — red eyes. Dress : rusty double- 
breasted, swallow tail, high collared coat of the period. Tight 
trousers. Dicky and stock. Manner : mean and miserly. Very 
bald — long, thin white hair. 

Jonas Chuzzlewit. A second edition of his father ; the same 
features and general appearance of meanness. Rusty brown 
crop wig. Plain dark clothes of no particular color. Dicky and 
stock. 

Old Martin. Of a more benevolent appearance than Anthony 
but of something the same general character. Hair whiter and 
more of it. Dress : plain and neat, tight trousers, white gaiters. 
Wears skullcap. Carries a stout cane. 

Martin. Handsome make-up — long brown hair. In first act, 
scene 2 of third, and last act, dressed stylishly and well. In scene 
I of third act is shabby. 

Tom Pinch. An ungainly, awkward looking man. Extremely 
short-sighted and prematurely bald. About thirty years old but 
might be any age between sixteen and sixty. Dress : a snufif 
colored suit, shrunk and twisted and too small for him. 

TiGG. In Act I very shabby — coat of military cut — frogged and 
buttoned up to neck. Gloves through which his fingers protrude — 
strapped trousers, pulled up very tight. Dilapidated hat. Full 
and very shaggy hair — fierce, shaggy mustache. General appear- 
ance very dirty and very jaunty and swaggering. In Act II, very 
flashily dressed. In Act IV, dressing gown. In Acts II and IV 
has full whiskers. 

Chuffey. a little, blear-eyed, weazen-faced, ancient man. 
Long white hair. Dress : of an ancient pattern ; a decayed suit 
of black — knee breeches, tied at the knees with wisps of rusty 
ribbon. Dingy worsted stockings of the same color as his 
breeches. 

Bailey. A small boy with the general appearance of an old 
man, in that his face betokens great shrewdness. Dress in Act II 
a suit of cast-off clothes, much too large for him. In Act IV, showy 
livery with cockade in hat. 



HINTS AS TO COSTUMES, MAKE-UP, ETC. 5 

Mould. A little elderly man — bald. Dress : Black clothes — 
massive gold watch-chain dangling from fob. Melancholy face. 

Lewsome. a young man — dark hair — very pale. Dress : 
Act III, shabby dressing gown, shppers. Act V, street clothes of 
the period. 

Nadgett. a sharp-featured man, rather stoop shouldered, 
his eyes generally on the ground. Walks with a quiet, slinking 
manner. Shows no emotion — speaks quietly. All movements 
stealthy and secretive. Dress : dark, long coat, low crowned, 
wide brimmed hat. Has a voluminous pocketbook full of mem- 
orandums on slips of paper, which he carries in his inside coat 
pocket. 

Mr. Moddle. Full dark wig, hair long and brushed down 
over the ears. Face very pale and melancholy. Dress : dark 
and plain ; a young man of the period. 

Mary Graham. Very pretty but pale ; dark brown hair. 
Dress : plain but very becoming. 

Charity. A silly old maid. Hair knotted in the back and tied 
with a large bow of ribbon. Dress : Close fitting waist and full 
skirt of the period, white cuffs and bertha. In Act IV she wears a 
shawl and bonnet. 

Mercy. Younger and much more attractive than her sister. 
Hair done in rows of curls. Dress : similar to Charity's but more 
juvenile and in lighter colors. Manner : vivacious (kittenish) in 
Acts I and II. In Act IV she is pale and disheveled. 

Sarah Gamp. A fat old woman — husky voice — face red and 
swollen — very red nose. Dress : very rusty black gown with 
shawl to correspond and calash. In Act III carries a large ging- 
ham umbrella, tied around the handle and bulging out in the 
middle, and a bundle tied up in a large handkerchief, containing 
an enormous nightcap and a loose jacket. 

Betsy Prig. Of the Gamp build but not so fat, has a deep 
voice, something hke a man's. Has something of a beard. 

For more details see the book and Cruikshank s drawings. 



SYNOPSIS 



Act I — Parlor at Mr. Pecksniff's. Wiltshire. 

Act II. — Room in house of Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit. London. 

Act III. — Scene I : Garden at Mr, Pecksniff 's. 

Scene 2 : Room in an Inn at Holborn. 
Act IV. — Scene i: Apartment at Montague Tigg's. London. 



Scene 2 : At Anthony Chuzzlewit' s- 
Act v. — The same as previous scene. 



-same as Act II. 



IMPORTANT 



The ttndersigned will coach 
this play for any organiza- 
tion Of cIttK For rates apply 
to Frank E. Fowle, SH Sum- 
mer St*t Maiden^ Mass* 



The Chuzzlewits 



ACT I 

SCENE. — Living-room at Pecksniff's. Doors L. i E. and 
R. 3 E. Fireplace down r. Window up c. Centre-table up 
stagey c. Chairs by table and down L. 

{As curtain rises ^ Mr. Seth Pecksniff i^i easy chair before 
fireplace. Mercy Pecksniff on low stool r. of fireplace. 
Charity Pecksniff on low stool at fireplace below Peck- 
sniff. ) 

Peck, {gazing at the fire ^ his hands in his lap, the tips of 
his fingers joined^. Yes, my dears, even the worldly goods 
of which we have just disposed, even cream, sugar, tea, toast, 
ham 

Char. And eggs. 

Peck. And eggs, even, have their moral. See how they 
come and go ! Every pleasure is transitory. We can't even 
eat long. If we indulge in harmless fluids we get the dropsy ; 
if in exciting liquids we get drunk. What a soothing reflection 
is that. 

Char. Don't say we get drunk, papa. 

Peck. When I say we, my dear, I mean mankind in gen- 
eral. Mercy, my dear, stir the fire and throw up the cinders. 
(Mer. does so, a7id takes her stool ?iear Peck., and leans her 
face and hands against his knee. Char, draws nearer the 
fire.) Yes, I have been again fortunate in the attainment of 
my object. A new inmate will shortly be among us. 

Char. A youth, papa? 

Peck. Ye-es, a youth. He will avail himself of the eligible 
opportunity which now offers of uniting the advantages of the 
best practical architectural education with the comforts of a 
home with some who are not unmindful of their moral respon- 
sibilities. 

Mer. Oh, pa ! see advertisement. 

Peck. Playful, playful warbler ! 



8 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Mer. Is he handsome, papa ? 

Char. Silly Merry. What is the premium, pa ? Tell us 
that. 

Mer. Oh ! good gracious, Cherry ! What a mercenary 
girl you are. Oh, you naughty, thoughtful, prudent thing ! 

Peck. He is well looking enough. I do not positively ex- 
pect any immediate premium from him. 

Char. | p , 

Mer. I ^^ • 

Peck. But what of that ! {Smiles at the JireJ) If our in- 
clinations are but good let us follow them boldly, even though 
they bring upon us loss instead of profit. Eh ! Charity ? 
(He turns to her solenmly ; they smile at him meaningly, and 
his face gradually relaxes. They both laugh. Mer., getting 
up on his right knee, kisses him. Peck, recovers himself.') 
Tut ! Tut ! What folly is this ? 

Char. Pa, have you any news of our odious cousin, old 
Martin Chuzzlewit? 

Peck. My dear, you shouldn't call our dear relative odi- 
ous; remember that he is ill, and that blood is thicker than 
water. 

Mer. (^playfully). And so is mud, pa. 

Peck. Hush, my merry one, the subject is too serious for 
jest. The whole family are swooping down upon poor Mr. 
Chuzzlewit like vultures upon a body. 

Mer. Lor, pa ! 

Peck. Yes, I met two of these — ahem — relatives, just as I 
was leaving the bar parlor. Our Cousin Anthony and his son 
Jonas. 

Char. And that — that person. Miss Mary Graham, is she 
still with Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit ? 

Peck. My dear, I regret to say that Miss Graham still 
waits, with apparent devotion, upon our wealthy but weak and 
misguided relative, and that he, instead of disposing himself to 
listen to the promptings of nature, is still deceived by the voice 
of the 

Mer. Go on, pa. 

Peck. The truth is, my dear, I am at a loss for a word. 
The name of those fabulous animals, Pagan animals I regret to 
say, who used to sing in the water has quite escaped me. 

Char. Swans, pa ? 

Peck. No, my dear, not swans, yet very like swans too. 
Thank you. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 9 

Mer. Oysters, pa? 

Peck. No, nor oysters, my love. But by no means unlike 
oysters. Thank you very much. Wait ! I have it — sirens ; 
dear me, not oysters nor swans, but sirens, sirens of course. 
Yes, our misguided relative still listens to the voice of the 
siren, and will take his barley water or chicken broth from no 
other hands but hers. And now, my dears, what is the do- 
mestic news since yesterday ? 

{Knocking heard off l.) 

Enter Jane. 

Jane. Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit, Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit, 
Mr. Tigg. 

{Girls rise. Enter Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit, Mr. Jonas 
Chuzzlewit and Mr. Montague Tigg. Peck, crosses 
to greet them.') 

Peck. (r. c). Ah ! Dear friends, this is pleasant. My 
daughters, Mercy, Charity, Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit, Mr. 
Jonas Chuzzlewit, Mr. Tigg. 

(Peck., r. c. Anth., c. Jonas, l. c. Tigg, l.) 

Jonas (l. c). Well, Pecksniff, this is what we've come 
about. Old Martin Chuzzlewit was laid up, we heard, and so 
father and I came down to look after the old fellow. We fol- 
lowed him to this village, and here he's laid up again. He'll 
croak, that's very evident, and as we are his near relatives we 
ought to look sharp after him — and the money. You'd like to 
get it all to yourself, Pecksniff, I know — but you won't. 

Anth. (c). Shrewd lad, Jonas, my own son ! Shrewd 
lad! 

Peck. (r. c). Indeed you wrong me. Money to me is no 
temptation. No one values it less than I do. 

Tigg (l.). I'm sure of that. You wrong my worthy friend, 
Pecksniff. He's an open, liberal-hearted individual. (^Crosses 
to Peck.) Pecksniff, a word. Excuse us. 

(Peck, and Tigg advance c.) 

Anth. {crossing to Jonas, l. c). Yes — plot, plot against 
us, do. Never mind — never mind. We'll outwit them, won't 
we, Jonas? 



10 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Jonas. There, hold your tongue ! 

{Crosses to Mer. and Ch ah., r. Anth. sits l.) 

Peck. Pardon me, sir, but as yet I am not thoroughly ac« 
quainted with who you are. 

TiGG. Who I am? Tigg, sir. I'm Tigg, the particular 
friend of Chevy Slyme, Esq. You know Chevy, a nephew of 
Chuzzlewit ? By chance, quite chance, we happened to be in 
this place on our way to, what do you call it, you know the 
place, when Chev deputed me to call and consult you respect- 
ing the health of his relative. 

Peck. Why did not Mr. Slyme come himself.? 

Tigg. He's waiting 'round the corner. Every man of true 
genius has his peculiarity, and the peculiarity of my friend 
Slyme is that he is always waiting 'round the corner. In a 
word, Pecksniff, my friend Chev deputed me to deliver that 
note into your hands. 

Peck, {reading note). Hum ! he requires the loan of five 
shilhngs. 

Tigg. Five shillings, eh ? What an extraordinary fellow ! 
Very moderate, too, isn't he ? You are not in want of change, 
are you ? 

Peck. No, thank you. 

Tigg. Oh ! if you had been I'd have got it for you. 

Peck. Sir, you are very obliging. No. 

Tigg. Oh ! {Pause. They look at each other.) Perhaps 
you'd rather not lend Slyme five shillings now? 

Peck. I couldn't do it. 

Tigg. Half-a-crown, perhaps ? 

Peck. No, not even half-a-crown, sir. 

Tigg. Why, then, we come to the ridiculously small 
amount of eighteen pence, eh ? Ha, ha, ha ! 

Peck. That, sir, would be equally objectionable. 

Tigg {seizing both his hands). Pecksniff, you are one of 
the most consistent and remarkable men I ever met with. I 
earnestly desire to become better acquainted with you. You 
are really a noble-hearted individual ! {To Jonas.) Sir, your 
servant. {To Anth.) Chuzzlewit, yours. Ladies, yours to 
your shoe-strings. {Aside.) I'll hook this agreeable party yet 
somehow. {Aloud.) Ta-tal \^Exit, l. 

Peck, {crossing l. to Anth.). I repeat, Mr. Chuzzlewit, I 
only visited the invalid from feelings of humanity. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS II 

Anth. {seated 'l,'). Humanity ! Pecksniff, you are a hypo- 
crite. We are all hypocrites. I'm a hypocrite, so is my son 1 

{Rises and crosses to door, l.) 

Jonas (r. c). Speak for yourself, you old fool. {Crosses 
to Peck.) That's rather a nice girl of yours, Pecksniff. 
(Aside.) She's got money, I know. {Aloud.) She that 
laughs so. I think she laughs at the old un here. Good-bye, 
girls. {Crosses R. c.) Good-bye, Cherry! I must have a 
kiss before I go. 

Char. (r. c). Oh ! Really, Mr. Jonas— I declare— I'm 
so 

Jonas. Don't alarm yourself, I don't mean you. I shall 
have a kiss of the other one. {Crosses to Mer., r.) 

Mer. {dow7i R.). Indeed you shan't! Go along, you 
fright ! I hate you ! 

Jonas. I say I will ! {Tries to seize her.) 

Mer. Will you? — bear I {Slaps his face.) 

Jonas {crossing to c, savagely, aside). I should like to 
make your heart bleed for that ! {Aloud.) Come along, 
father ; stir your stupid old legs, will you ? {Pushes Anth. 
out L.) Good-bye. 

(He turns to look back. Mer. laughs at him.) 

Mer. (r.). Go along, fright ! 

(Jonas scowls and exits, l. Mer. goes to fireplace. Char. 
sits on stool and scowls at her.) 

Peck. (c). Oh ! avarice, avarice — how hideous are you ! 
But let us not be too hard upon our fellow creatures. Charity, 
when I take my chamber candlestick to-night, remind me to be 
more than usually particular in praying for Mr. Anthony Chuz- 
zlewit, who has done me an injustice. It is near the time, my 
children, that I expect Mr. Pinch home with my new pupil, and 
I think it will be prudent not to tell him that his grandfather, 
old Martin Chuzzlewit, is in this vicinity. I abhor deceit, 
but {Knock at door, L.) There's a knock! Be em- 
ployed, children. {Takes book.) It may be Martin. 

{They sit. He reads. They work.) 

Enter Tom Pinch, conducting young Martin Chuzzlewit. 



12 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Peck, {looking uf). Bless my life ! {Rises.) Martin, my 
dear boy, 1 am delighted to see you ! {Embraces him.) Here 
are my daughters, Martin. You have not beheld them since 
you were infants together. 

{The ladies curtsey and he shakes hands with the?n, r. c.) 

Mar. (r. c). I trust that acquaintance will be sufficient to 
make us feel like old friends. 

Peck. A noble sentiment, my dear young man. We are a 
happy family, sir, — very happy ! Martin, you must be tired. 
My innocents, retire, whilst my dear Martin partakes of some 
refreshment. 

(Char, and Mer., taking their work with themy cross l.) 

Mer. Certainly, pa. 

Mar. Pray, ladies, don't move. 

{They smile blandly.) 

Tom (l.). Yes, pray, ladies, don't go. 

(Mer. bursts into a loud laugh at Tom, and Char, tosses 
up her head. They exeufit, l.) 

Peck. A deal of nature's graceful dignity in my eldest 
child, — a noble creature ! As to Merry, as we call her, in her 
face ''laughter is perpetually holding both his sides," as the 
poet has it. An innocent lamb ! ( Crosses to fable up c.) My 
dear Martin, here are sandwiches, biscuits, home-made wine, 
an orange, — almost. {Takes up half a7i orange.) Mr. Pinch 
will get you anything else you require. 

E titer Jane, l. 

Jane. You are wanted, sir. An elderly gentleman 

Peck, {stopping her). Hem ! yes, that will do — I'm com- 
ing. {Exit Jane.) There's a portfolio yonder; you can 
amuse yourself. AH my own designs. Salisbury Cathedral 
from the north, south, east, west — a wine cellar — an almshouse 
— a jail — a powder magazine — a portico and a pump — all my 
own designs ! I shall soon return. You must be very hungry, 
so eat heartily. \^Exit, l. 

Tom {going to table up c). Yes, eat heartily. Look! here 
are sandwiches, home-made wine and half an orange. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 1 3 

Mar. {throwing himself carelessly into a chair before the 
fircy R., and putting his feet on the hob). D — n the sand- 
wiches and home-made wine ! Rubbish ! 

Tom. Oh, dear ! You don't mean it ! Beautiful ! 

Mar. Do you think so ? Then eat and enjoy it. {Sits 
looking into the fire. After a pause.) A dull village this. 

Tom. I don't find it dull, Mr. Chuzzlewit. 

Mar. No ? How do you amuse yourself ? 

Tom. There are some delightful walks, and in the church 
there is the sweetest little organ you ever heard; and on 
Sundays and at the week-day services I play it for them. And 
sometimes when there are no services I get the keys and go 
down and play for hours together, long after it is dark. I like 
to play in the dark. The old organ never seems so sweet to 
me as then. 

Mar. Ah ! what do you get for all this, now ? 

Tom. Nothing. 

Mar. Well, you are a strange fellow. 

Tom. When I say nothing, I don't mean that. It has led 
to my passing some of the happiest hours I know, and it led to 
my seeing one of the loveliest and most beautiful faces you can 
possibly picture to yourself. I saw her standing just inside the 
porch \ I didn't leave off playing, though, and she came again 
to hear me the next morning and the next evening. But I have 
not seen her now for some time, and it's very unlikely I shall 
ever look on her face again. 

Mar. And you never followed her ? 

Tom. Why should I disturb her ? I heard she was a rela- 
tive or companion of a gentleman staying at the Dragon. I 
would have gone on playing the organ until I was an old man 
to have given her a minute's pleasure every day — quite con- 
tented if she sometimes thought of a poor fellow like me as part 
of the music. {Fills glass and sits on stool behind Mar.) 
How melancholy you are ! You were not so as we came home 
together. 

Mar. Why, the fact is, Pinch 

(Mar. turns, and seeing Tom sitting on a stool behind him^ 
bursts into a fit of laughter.) 

Tom. Ah ! you are laughing at me. That's right ! Cheer 
up ! That's capital ! 

Mar. {turning to Tom). I never saw such a fellow as you 



14 THE CHUZZLEWIT8 

are, Pinch. Deuce take it ! I must talk openly to some one. 
I'll talk openly to you. Pinch. 

Tom. I shall take it as being very friendly of you. 

Mar. I'm not in your way, am I ? 

{Notices that he is shielding Toufrom the fire.) 

Tom. Not at all. 

Mar. You must know, then, that I've been bred up with 
great expectations; but for certain reasons I've been disin- 
herited. 

Tom (eating). By your father? 

Mar. No, my grandfather. I have no parents. 

Tom. No ? Neither have I. Ah — dear ! 

Mar. The old fellow has many good points, but two very 
great faults. He is provokingly obstinate and most abominably 
selfish. 

Tom. Is he, though ? Bless me ! 

Mar. I've heard they have always been the failings of our 
family, but, thank heaven, those vices have not descended to 
me. You don't care about the fire, do you ? It's infernally 
cold! 

Tom. Oh, dear, no, not at all. Go on. 

(Mar. spreads himself before theftre^ hiding it entirely from 
Tom.) 

Mar. Well, Pinch, I fell in love with my grandfather's 
adopted daughter — his companion. Being full of jealousy and 
distrust, he suspected me of this. 

Tom. Well, there was no crime in that. 

Mar. Of course not ! Well, he said nothing to her, but 
charged me with attempting to deprive him of the young crea- 
ture he had trained to be his only companion ; when at the 
same time he had arranged for me to marry in some way of his 
own. 

Tom. Well, and what did you say ? 

(Draws close up to Mar.) 

Mar. Say ! Why, I started up ! (Rises and knocks Tom 
over.) Told him he was a selfish old tyrant, and that I would 
dispose myself in marriage as I liked. A tremendous quarrel 
ensued, and the upshot was that I must renounce her or be 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 1 5 

renounced by him. Now, you know I'm confoundedly — con- 
foundedly {Stands by fire.) 

Tom. Obstinate, too ! 

Mar. No ! What a fellow you are ! 

Tom. I thought you wanted a word. 

Mar. I didn't want that word. Obstinacy is no part of my 
character. I wouldn't give an inch, and here I am. 

Tom {still on the floor). Yes, here we are ! You knew 
Pecksniff before ? 

Mar. Only by name, but I know his nature. I saw his 
advertisement for a pupil, and was doubly bent on coming to 
him, on account of his being 

Tom {still on floor). Such an excellent man ! You are 
quite right ; he is ! 

Mar. {standing before fireplace). I am not quite sure of 
that. No, because I knew my grandfather hated him, and 
after the old man's behavior I was determined to annoy him all 
in my power. 

Tom. No, were you though ? 

Mar. But I won't lose the girl ! 

Tom. Don't be angry ; all will be well in time ; and if I 
can serve you 

Mar. Thank you ! You're a good fellow I ( Crosses to 
Tom, shaki?ig hands and helping him to rise.) I'll tell you 
what you may do ; and this moment too, if you like. 

Tom {readily). What is it, my dear fellow? 

Mar. I'm out of temper, and tired. I'll go and lie down, 
and you come and read to me. 

Tom. I shall be delighted ! {Gets book.) 

Mar. (yawfiing and leaning on mantel). You needn't 
leave off when I'm getting drowsy. It's pleasant to wake grad- 
ually to the sounds again. Did you ever try it ? 

Tom. No, never ! 

Mar. {crossing to Tom, putting his arm about him and 
going R. to door). It's very pleasant. Try it, when you can 
persuade some simple-minded fellow to do it. 

\They exeunt^ r. 

(Peck, peeks in at door, l ; seeing coast clear , enters ^ bow- 
ing, followed by Old Martin Chuzzlewit.) 

Old M. {crossing to c). You are quite alone ? 
Peck, [bowing lowly). Quite, my dear sir, quite I My 
daughters are in their rooms, and 



l6 THE CHUziLEWITS 

Old M. {impatiently). Yes, yes ! but is he — is he out of 
the way ? I do not choose to encounter him. 

Peck. Your grandson Martin ? Yes, he has evidently 
gone to his room to rest after his journey. 

Old M. Enough ! Pecksniff, I regret that you and I held 
such a conversation as that of our last meeting. 

Peck. Don't mention it, my dear cousin, 1 was honored by 
it. I (^Offers a chair,') 

Old M. (wavifig silence). I repeat it — I very much regret 
having laid open to you what were then my thoughts of you as 
freely as I did. I am changed. My intentions are now altered. 
Deserted by those whom I loved, by those for whom I labored 
— beset by harpies — I now fly to you for refuge. I confide in 
you to attach yourself to me by ties of interest and expectation, 
and to help me to visit the consequence of meanness, dissimu- 
lation, and subtlety on the right heads. 

{Sits c. in chair offered by Peck.) 

Peck, (bowing and rubbing his hands). My noble sir, pray 
offer no bribes. From the purest affection, the purest love, 
the purest admiration of your excellent and generous nature, I 
am yours, heart and soul, beloved sir, I am yours. 

Old M. Do you never sit down ? 

Peck. Why, yes, occasionally. 

Old M. Will you do so now ? 

Peck. Delighted, my dear sir. {Sits L.) 

Old M. You remember what passed between us at a former 
interview ? 

Peck. I do, dear sir, and came home and prayed fervently 
that the film might fall from your blessed eyes, and that you 
might see me in my proper light. 

Old M. Pecksniff, I will see you in your proper light. 
You spoke to me disinterestedly of — I needn't name him — you 
know whom I mean. 

Peck. Quite disinterestedly, I assure you. 

Old M. He is in your house as a pupil ? 

Peck. Yes, sir, he is. 

Old M. He must quit it. 

Peck. For yours ? 

Old M. For any shelter he can find. He has deceived 
me — he may you. 

Peck. I hope not ; I abominate deceit. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 1 7 

Old M. He has made his matrimonial choice — crossed my 
fondest hopes ; he shall never have from me one shilling. 

Peck, (rising). I will turn him out directly ! The ser- 
pent ; the viper ; to practice on those venerable gray hairs ; to 
deceive his more than father, to say nothing at all of mother. 
To turn him out with ignominy will be treatment too good for 
such a crime. 

Old M. I am glad to find you so consistent, and that you 
second me so warmly. Pecksniff, you shall be my factor in 
all things — free and uncontrolled. Is it a bargain ? 

{Holds out ha fid.) 

Peck, {taking Old M.'s ha^id, trying to cry and appear 
overcofne). This is too much, my — my dear sir — the honor — 
the 

Old M. {withdrawing his hand). Pah I You agree ? 

Peck. (l. c.)- Oh, yes ! 

{Puts his handkerchief to his eyes as if overpowered.) 

Old M. 'Tis well ! Banish this boy, and you will prove 
that I am not deceived in you. Pecksniff — I am yours ! 

Peck, {bowing servilely). Oh ! 

Old M. I regret not having known you sooner. If I had 
I should have used you, as you well deserve. 

Enter Char, and Mer., l. 

Peck. My dears, oblige me by thanking heaven for this. 

{They go to Old M., embrace him and lean affectionately on 
him.) 

Old M. What are their names ? 

Peck. (l.). Mercy and Charity. Not unholy names, I 
hope, sir. 

Old M. Which is the younger ? 

(Mer. steps forward and curtseys.) 

Peck. Mercy, by five years. We sometimes venture to 
consider her rather a fine figure, sir. Speaking as an artist, 
I am naturally proud, if I may use the expression, to have a 
daughter who is constructed on the best models. 

(Mer. trips away. Char, retires disgusted.) 



l8 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Old M. She seems to have a lively disposition. 

Peck. She has ; her gaiety is delightful. She roves from 
parlor to bedroom, Mr. Chuzzlewit, like the bee. She skims 
from post to pillar like the butterfly, dipping her young beak 
into our current wine like the humming-bird. Speaking of 
wine, allow me to drink your health. (^Gets wine fro?n side- 
board and hands glass to Old M.) Bless you ! {^Drinks.) 

Old M. I drink to you. (Drinks. Makes wry face. 
Rises and puts glass on table. ^ Now let me go. My dears, 
good-evening. 

(Peck, shakes hands with Old M. ; his daughters kiss him. 
Old M. exits i..^ followed by Peck, atid his daughters with 
a great show of affection.^ 

Enter Tom and M.h'R. ^ from r. 

Tom (^ going down c). And so we've nothing more to 
show you. I dare say we shall begin work to-morrow. Do 
you like Mr. Pecksniff? 

Mar. (at fireplace). He strikes me as being something of 
a shining light. 

Tom. He is a shining light. 

Mar. (doubtfully). Ah ! 

Tom. I don't know how it is, no one seems to know him as 
I do. I admire him, and reverence him. I am under obhga- 
tions to him, Martin, that the devotion of a life will never repay. 

(Sits in chair f looking up at Mar.) 

Mar. Do you know, Tom Pinch, I seem to have known 
you for years. If I should turn out to be a great architect, I 
tell you what should be one of the things I'd build. 

Tom. Aye, what ? 

Mar. Your fortune. 

Tom. No, would you ? How good of you ! 

Mar. That would be after I had made a name, and I should 
be married to her then, of course. 

Tom. To the young lady we have spoken of? 

Mar. To your beautiful spirit, yes. 

Tom (disturbed). Oh, yes, of course. 

Mar. And we should have, I hope, children about us. 
They'd be fond of you, Tom Pinch. (Tom looks down, but is 
silent.) Perhaps I might name one of them after you, Tom, 



THE CHUZZLEWITS I9 

eh ? Well, I don't know. Thomas Pinch Chuzzlewit— T. P. 
C. on his pinafores — she would like you, Pinch, 1 know. 

Tom {faintly). Yes. 

Mar. Oh, I know she would. And in honor of old times 
down here, we'd have an organ, and as you're fond of playing 
in the dark, in the dark it should be ; and many's the summer 
evenings she and I will sit and listen to you, Tom. 

{Fufs his hand on Tom's shoulder.) 

Tom {much moved). You are very considerate and affec- 
tionate, like everybody else who knows me. It shows the kind- 
ness of human nature, for I am sure I have no right to such 
goodness. {Rises, goes up.) 

Enter Peck, from l. 

Peck. You must be cold, Mr. Pinch. {Ignores Mar.) 
Pray come into a warm place. Pinch. 

(Peck, takes him and sits him on stool above fireplace, tak- 
ing the easy chair himself. Mar. is up c. ) 

Tom. Pve been explaining to Mr. Martin 

Peck. Yes ! Yes ! we will not discuss that at present. 

And what have you been doing in the architectural way, 

Thomas, eh? 

(Mar. comes dow?i l. c. Tom looks uneasily from Peck, to 
him, a?id is much embarrassed. Vecyl pokes fire and fid- 
gets his chair with appearance of being occupied.) 

Mar. (l. c). Now, Mr. Pecksniff, if you have sufficiently 
warmed and recovered yourself, I shall be glad to hear what 
you mean by this treatment of me. {Pause. Peck, takes no 
notice. Mar. moves to c.) Mr. Pecksniff, you heard what 
I said just now. Do me the favor to reply if you please. I ask 
you, what do you mean by this ? 

Peck, {severely). I will talk to you presently. 

Mar. Presently will not do. I must trouble you to talk to 
me at once. Now — now ! 

Peck, {rising ) . Do you threaten me, sir ? You have de- 
ceived me. You have obtained admission, sir, to this house 
on perverted statements and under false pretenses. 

Mar. Good. I understand you now. My grandfather has 
been here — what more ? 



20 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Peck. (r. c). This much more. {Trembles and tries to 
rub his hands as if cold?) This lowly roof must not be con- 
taminated by the presence of one who has cruelly deceived an 
honorable and venerated gentleman. I weep for your deprav- 
ity, sir. I pity the withdrawal of yourself from the flowery 
paths {striking his breast) of purity and peace, but I cannot 
have a leper and a serpent for an inmate. Go forth, young 
man ! like all who know you, I renounce you. 

Enter Mer. and Cuar. Mar. steps forward as if to strike 
Peck. Tom, who has risen, holds hi?n back. Mer. and 
Char, rush to Peck., who retreats momentarily, as if 
afraid, and then stands calmly looki?ig up to ceiling, and 
with the tips of his fingers joified. 

Mar. (l. c). Pinch, let me go. Do you think a blow 
could make him a more abject creature than he is? Look at 
him, Pinch. (Tom looks at Peck., who smiles benignly.) I 
tell you he stands there disgraced, bought, used, a cloth for 
dirty hands, a lying, fawning, servile hound ! and mark me. 
Pinch, the day will come — he knows it — see it written on his 
face while I speak — when even you will find him out, and will 
know him as I do. He renounce me ! Cast your eyes on the 
renouncer. Pinch, and be the wiser for it. 

(Mar. poifits contemptuously at Peck, while he speaks. 
Mer. and Char, cling around Peck.) 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

SCENE. — Room at Anthony's. Door c. in flat. Doors R. 
a7id L. Fireplace, L. Table set for supper, c. Chairs r. 
a7id L. of it. Armchair at fireplace. Another arfnchair 
above fireplace. Old desk with drawers, R. Candle burti- 
ing on mantel. Another on table. 

(Anthony seated in armchair before fire.) 

Anth. (warmifig his hands over fire). What a cold spring 
it is ! It was a warmer season, sure, when I was young ! 

Enter Jonas, followed by Char. ««^Mer., door in flat. 

Jonas (crossing to Anth.). You needn't go scorching your 
clothes into holes, whether it was or not. Broadcloth ain't so 
cheap as that comes to. 

Anth. A good lad ! A prudent lad ! He never delivered 
himself up to the vanities of dress. No, no ! 

Jonas (l. c). Here are the gals. 

Anth. (rising feebly). Glad to see you, girls. Is your 
father coming ? 

Char. (c). We expect him soon. 

{Titters and goes to Mer., r.) 

Jonas. Well, ghost, is tea ready ? 

Anth. (l.). I should think it was. 

Jonas (at table, c). What's the good of that? I should 
think it was. I want to know. 

Anth. (sinking into chair at flreplace). Ah! I don't know 
for certain. 

Jonas. You don't know for certain ? No, you don't know 
anything for certain, you don't. Give me your candle. 
(Crosses to flreplace a7id takes candle.) I want it for the gals. 

(He beckons the girls and they follow him into room, r. 
Anth. busies hi7ns elf poking fire mitil^o^h^ returns.) 

Anth. (poking fire). It's very cold. 

Jonas (crossing and taking poker from him). Let the fire 

21 



22 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

be. Do you want to come to want in your old age that you 
take to wasting now ? 

Anth. There's not time for that, Jonas. 

Jonas {at fireplace). Not time for what ? 

Anth. For me to come to want. I wish there was. 

Jonas {at fireplace^. You always were as selfish an old blade 
as need be. You wouldn't mind coming to want, wouldn't 
you ? I dare say you wouldn't, and your own flesh and blood 
might come to want, too, might they, for anything you cared ! 
Oh, you precious old flint ! 

{Knock at door in flat. Jonas goes to door and admits 
Bailey.) 

Bailey (/« doorway). I say, there's a gentleman coming 
up-stairs as knows you. He seed you coming here and just 
sent me up to see if you'd see him. Here's his card. 

Jonas {taking card afid readitig). Tigg Montague, Esq. 
Who's he ? 

Enter Tigg, dressed extravagantly. Eye-glass, etc. 

Tigg (r. c). Behold him here, life size, warranted original. 
{Strikes attitude, puts glass in eye, crosses to Jonas and seizes 
his hand.) Ah, my dear fellow ! Quite well ? Here you {to 
Bailey) what-is-it ! Here's a shilHng for you. Vanish, quick ! 
Presto ! Cut ! 

Bailey {up c, taking shilling). You make yourself at 
home, you do ! 

Tigg {up r. c). Get out ! 

Bailey. Out I goes, as the wind said to the bellers. Va- 
riety ! [Exit by door in flat. 

Tigg. Sharp boy that. (Seizes Jonas' hand.) Well, how 
are you ? 

Jonas {withdrawing his hand). Why, I've no money to 
lend, if that's what you want ; though it seems you've dropped 
somebody in for it. {Looks at Tigg's dress.) Well, there are 
some soft chaps in the world, anyhow. 

Tigg {going down r. c). A long lane that has no turning, 
Chuzzlewit. I have met with a few speculative spirits, Chuz- 
zlewit, and am on the high road to fortune. Hark ye ! What 
do you think of "The Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and 
Life Insurance Company"? What do you think of that, eh? 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 23 

Paid up capital a figure two, and as many aughts after it as 
the printer can get into the same line. 

Jonas {sitting l. of table). I know all about paid up 
capital. 

TiGG {presenting Jonas a prospectus). Here's a prospectus. 
Tigg Montague, Esq., Chairman. {Sits r. of table.) 

Jonas. Well, what do you want with me ? 

Tigg. See my card. I'm living in Pall Mall. Give me a 
call; come and dine. {Leajis toward ^o^k%^ co7ifidentially.) 
I want you to join us ; sprinkle a little capital, and reap a rich 
harvest of profit. 

Jonas. You don't mean to say it's a speculation oi yours ? 

Tigg {sitting back). Of mine and some other fellows of 
equal genius. {Rises.) Proof of success, vide appearance. 

{Strikes attitude.) 

Jonas. I see, I see j it's a swindle. 

Tigg {sitting r. of table again). Some people won't see the 
distinction between peculation and speculation. It's a spec. 
Join us. Wealth, immense wealth must necessarily pass through 
our hands. The affair is magnificently started — offices, branch 
offices, secretaries, vehicles, servants, furniture, prospectuses, 
agents, clerks, green and red ledgers, court guides, directories, 
day-books, letter-boxes, iron safes — everything ready and in 
full play. We have but to watch how things are working 
and 

Jonas. Oh, I'm not going to run into any danger and lose 
what I've got and what I shall have when father dies. 

Tigg. Lose, impossible ! {Rises.) Well, at any rate you'll 
give me a call. No danger in that. 

Jonas {risi?ig). I don't mind calling; you've got some 
wine, I suppose. 

Tigg (r. c). Wine ! pipes, rivers. 

Jonas (l. c). But mind, I don't bind myself to anything. 
Let us understand that. 

Tigg. Bind, nonsense ! Wait till you see it. {Crosses to 
Jonas and slaps him on back.) I applaud your caution, old 
friend. Well, I shall expect to see you. 

{Goes toward door in flat.) 

Efiter Bailey. 

Bailey {up c). I say, sir; that boy as you give your 



24 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

horse to, to hold, is letting it out at a penny a ride to all the 
coves in the neighborhood, and they ain't giving it a sweating 
at all neither. Oh, no I 

TiGG {lip L. c). The devil they are ! Say, I want a smart 
lad. Do you know of one, Wrinklenose ? 

Bailey. Oh, I ain't just the chap neither. Oh, no, not at 
all. Hire me. I'm to let, sir. 

TiGG. Call on me. {Gives Bailey card.') Pall Mall. 
Good-bye, Chuzzlewit, I shall expect you. Now, Wrinkle- 
nose, show the way. 

Bailey. This way, sir. 

{Touches his cap and goes, followed by Tigg. Jonas crosses 
to doory R.) 

Jonas {at doory r.). Now, gals ! {Enter Char, and Mer., 
from r. Jonas goes to chair r. of table and pulls it out for 
Char, to sit. Mer. crosses to l. of table.) Bachelor's Hall, 
you know, cousin. {To Char.) I say ; the other one will be 
having a laugh at this when she gets home, won't she ? Here 
you sit on the right side of me, and I'll have her upon the left. 
{Crosses to chair L. of table.) Other one, will you sit here ? 

Mer. You're such a fright that I know I shall have no 
appetite if I sit so near you, but I suppose I must. 

{Sits L. of table.) 

Jonas {at back of table to Char.). Ain't she lively ? 

Char, {seated v.. of table). Oh, I really don't know ! I'm 
tired of being asked such ridiculous questions. 

Jonas. Where's that sleepy-headed Chuffey got to ? {Goes 
to door, L. Enter Old Chuffey, from l. He goes down to 
chair above fireplace.) Now, stupid. (Chuf. pauses by chair.) 
Oh, you know your name, do you ? {Crossing to l. C.) Our 
clerk, old Chuffey. 

Mer. Is he deaf, poor fellow ? 

Jonas. No. I don't know that he is. He ain't deaf, is 
he, father? 

Anth. I never heard him say he was. 

Char. Blind ? 

Jonas. N-no. I never understood that he was at all blind. 
You don't consider him blind, do you, father ? 

Anth. Certainly not. 

Mer. What is he then ? 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 25 

Jonas {to back of table^ apart to the young ladies). Why, 
I'll tell you what he is. He's precious old for one thing; and 
I ain't best pleased with him for that, for I think my father 
must have caught it of him. He's been addling his old brains 
with figures and bookkeeping all his life, so he's a strange old 
chap and don't understand any one hardly but him. {Foi?its 
to Anth. ) Now, cousin {to Char.), you make the tea just as 
if you were mistress here. (Char, simpers, but does as he 
asks, a?id he chucks her under the chin. Mer. passes tea to 
Anth. and Chuf.) I say, did you think I was lost that I 
didn't come to see you before ? 

Char. I didn't think at all about it. 

Jonas. Didn't you though ! Did the other one ? 

{Indicates Mer., who is giving tea to Chuf.) 

Char. She never said anything about it one way or the 
other. 

Jonas. Didn't she laugh about it? 

Char. No, she didn't even laugh about it. 

Jonas. She's a terrible one to laugh, ain't she? 

Char. She is very lively. 

Jonas. Liveliness is a pleasant thing — when it don't lead 
to spending money. Ain't it? 

Char, {looking down demurely). Very much so indeed. 

Jonas. Such liveliness as yours, I mean, you know. 
{Nudges her with his elbow. Mer. comes back to table, sits, 
drinks tea. ) Aha ! There you are, are you ? 

Mer. Yes, fright, here I am. And 1 would much rather 
be anywhere else, I assure you. 

Jonas. You don't mean that. You can't, you know; it 
isn't possible. 

Mer. You can have what opinion you like, fright. I am 
content to keep mine ; and mine is that you are a very unpleas- 
ant, odious person. (Laughs very inuch.) 

Jonas. Oh, you're a sharp gal ! She's a regular teaser, 
ain't she, cousin ? {Aside.) I'll make her pay for this. 

{Knock. Jonas rises, goes to door in flat and admits Peck.) 

Peck. Ah, my beloved children, I rejoice to see you in 
affectionate intercourse with relatives. Man is but grass and 
soon converted into the hay of declining life. Then why 

Jonas. There, we don't want any sermons now, you know. 



26 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

{Goes over to Anth., who is asleep and shakes him.) Hello, 
father ! Here's Pecksniff ! He gets more addlepated every- 
day he lives. {Shakes him again.') Don't I tell you Peck- 
sniff's here, stupid head? 

Anth. {starting out of his sleep and poking the fire). Ah, 
Pecksniff — eh ? Pecksniff ! Yes, yes ; I wanted to see Peck- 
sniff. 

Jonas {arresting his father's hand). Let the fire be, can't 
you ? You extravagant old fool ! 

Chuf. Ah, your own son ! Mr. Chuzzlewit, your own son ! 

Jonas. There, father's awake now. He wants to speak to 
you, Pecksniff, on particular business. {Takes chair from up 
back and places it near Anth. Crosses to Mer., who rises.) 
I say, gals, let's leave the old uns together. Come up-stairs 
and I'll show you over the house — eh, merry one? {Puts his 
arm about Mer.'s waist.) How should you like to be mistress 
of this house, eh ? 

Mer. Oh, you horrid fright, don't talk like that. 

{Pushes him away and goes up \.. Jonas looks gloweringly 
at her and then crosses to Char., who has risen.) 

Char, {declining Jonas' arfn). Thank ye, I can walk by 
myself. 

Jonas. Oh, very well, shan't ask twice. Here, merry one, 
you're the one for me. 

{Goes up, puts arm about Mer., aftd goes out r. with her ; 
Cuk-R. following in a huff.) 

Peck. And now, my dear sir, that we are alone — I say 
alone, because I believe that our dear friend, Mr. Chuffey, is, 
metaphysically speaking — shall I say — a dummy ? 

Anth. {suddenly). Jonas is sweet upon your daughter, 
Pecksniff. 

Peck. A charming girl, sir, though I say it who should not 
say it. 

Anth. You lie. What, you will be a hypocrite, will you ? 

Peck. My good sir ! 

Anth. Don't call me good sir, and don't pretend to be one 
yourself. If your daughter was what you would have me be- 
lieve, she wouldn't do for my son. Being what I think she is, 
thrifty and selfish, I think she will. {Pises and crosses back 
of table to r. c.) I don't want my substance, my savings, 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 27 

wasted when I am dead. {Draws his breath heavily^ leans on 
back of chair r. of table. After a pause ^ sits heavily.^ Peck- 
sniff, that time is not very far distant. It's here, here ! 

Peck, {rising, l. c). My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, these are 
unwholesome fancies. (Anth. shakes his head.) The truth 
is, my dear sir, you are not well. 

{Crosses sympathetically to back of table.) 

Anth. Not dying yet, not yet ! Look at him. {Foitits to 
Chuf.) Death has no right to leave him standing and mow 
me down. 

Peck. Undoubtedly not, no right whatever. (Sits l. of 
table.) It's Mr. Chuffey's duty to die first. 

Anth. Listen. {Beckons Peck. ; they lean toward each 
other.) Jonas will be my heir; Jonas will be rich. A great 
catch for you — you know that. You've promised with your 
daughter a certain sum. Give it, but take my advice. Bind 
Jonas while he is in the mood. Bind him, Pecksniff. You 
want him, I know. Bah ! {Sits back.) You man of oil, have 
I no eyes to see how you have angled with him from the first? 
That's my advice {leaning toivard Peck.), follow it ! {Leans 

back.) That's done, and Ah! I'm weak, weak. 

Here, here ! 

{Lays his hand on his heart and breathes heavily.) 

Enter Jonas, coming down l. of Peck. 

Jonas. Well, Pecksniff, how do you get on ? What ! 
{Looks across at his father.) Father asleep again? He's 
always at it now. 

Peck, {rising and taking Jonas a little to l.). Do you 
know, Mr. Jonas, that I think your father is — don't let me 
alarm you — breaking. 

Jonas {spitefully). Is he? You don't know how tough he 
is. I do. 

Peck, {looking across at Anth.). It strikes me there is an 
extraordinary change, both in his appearance and manner. 

Jonas {half-starting and alarmed). What do you mean by 
extraordinary, if he is changed ? There's nothing remarkable 
in that, is there ? 

(Anth. groans heavily, rises from his chair ^ looks around 
wildly, and falls forward on the floor.) 



28 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Chuf. (stariifig up and crossing to Anth.). Look here, 
look here ! — something wrong. Mr. Chuzzlewit ! {^Kneels 
down by Anth.) My poor old master ! Mr. Chuzzlewit ! 
Mr. Chuzzlewit ! 

Peck, {star tifig forward). Send for a doctor ! 

Jonas \seizi?ig Peck, by the arm and drawing hiin to l.). 
Don't — don't leave me, Pecksniff. It's lucky you were pres- 
ent. Some one might have said it was my doing. 

Peck, {looking at him in surprise). Your doing? 

Jonas. I used to joke, you know, but I — I never wished 
him dead. I know how people will talk — ^just as if he wasn't 
old, or I could keep him alive. {Sees Anth. rising from the 
floor, Chuf. assistitig him.) Look — look ! {Shrinks behind 
Peck.) He's rising up ! He wants to speak ! Don't let him 
— it will be the worse for him ! 

(Jonas stares in fright past V-ecvl. Anth. gazes vacantly 
and wildly around, until his eyes rest on Jonas. He 
makes a violent effort to speak ; points at him, struggles 
and falls. Jonas recoils. Chuf. bends over the body.) 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

SCENE I. — A year later. Garden at Peck.'s. Table, c. 
Chair Sy r. atid L. of it. Garden seat, l. Set house at r. 

(Peck, and Char, finishing breakfast at table. He is 
frow?iing ; her nose is red and her mouth is screwed up 
in a hostile manner.^ 

Peck, (seated l. of table). Cherry, what is amiss between 
us ? My child, why are we disunited ? 

Char. Bother, pa ! 

Peck, {in a tone of anguish). Bother ! 

Char. Oh ! It's too late to talk to me like that. I know 
what it means, and what its value is. 

Peck. This is hard ! This is very hard ! She is my child ! 
I carried her in my arms when she wore shapeless worsted 
shoes — I might say mufflers — many years ago ! 

Char, (spitefully). You needn't taunt me with that, pa. 
I am not so many years older than my sister, either, though she 
is married to your friend ! 

Peck. Ah, human nature, human nature ! To think that 
this discord should arise from such a cause ! Oh, dear, oh, 
dear ! 

Char. From such a cause, indeed ! State the real cause, 
pa, or I'll state it myself. 

Peck. You will ! You have. You did yesterday, you do 
always. You have no decency ; you make no secret of your 
temper ; you have exposed yourself to Mr. Chuzzlewit a hun- 
dred times. 

Char. Myself! Oh, indeed, I don't mind that. 

Peck. Me, too, then. (Char, laughs scor7ifully.) And 
since we have come to an explanation, miss, let me tell that I 
won't allow it. None of your nonsense, miss ! I won't permit 
it to be done. 

Char, (rocking her chair backward and forward, and rais- 
ing her voice to a high pitch). I shall do, pa, what I please. 
I'm not going to be crushed in everything. I've been more 
shamefully used than anybody ever was in this world (crying 
and sobbing), and may expect the worst treatment from you, I 
know. But I don't care for that ; no, I don't ! 

29 



30 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



Peck, {desperate at her loud tojie, risings looking all about 
him, crossing back of table afid shaking her. She is much sur- 
prised^. I'll do it again ! How do you mean about being 
shamefully used ? If Mr. Jouay chose your sister in preference 
to you, who could help it, I should wish to know. What have 
I to do with it ? 

Char. Wasn't I made a convenience of? Weren't my 
feelings trifled with ? Didn't he address himself to me first ? 
( Wrings her hands.) And, oh, good gracious, that I should 
live to be shook ! 

Peck, {standitig back of her chair). You'll live to be shaken 
again, if you drive me to that means of maintaining decorum 
under my humble roof. I wonder that you haven't more spirit. 
{Crosses L. c.) If Mr. Jonas didn't care for you, how could 
you wish to have him ? 

Char, (indigriantly). / wish to have him ! /wish to have 
him, pa ! 

Peck. (l. of table). Then what are you making all this 
fuss for ? 

Char. Because I was treated with duplicity, and because 
my own sister and my own father conspired against me. I am 
not angry with her. I pity her. I'm sorry for her. I know 
the fate that's in store for her with that wretch 

Peck. Mr. Jonas will survive your calling him a wretch, 
my child, I dare say, but call him what you like and make an 
end of it. 

Char, (rising). Not an end, pa. That's not the only 
point on which we're not agreed. I won't submit to it. It's 
better that you should know that at once. I'm not blind and 
I must ask you to provide me with another home. Place me 
somewhere, on an independent footing, for I will not submit to 
having a stepmother at my age. (Goes up r.) 

Peck. (l. of table). Well, I have ever sacrificed my chil- 
dren's happiness to my own — I mean my own happiness to my 
children's, and I will not begin to regulate my life by other rules 
of conduct now. If you can be happier elsewhere than in your 
father's house, my dear, go. Do not think of me, my girl. 
I shall get on pretty well, no doubt. Wherever you may go 
you will have my blessing. (Looks r.) But here comes Mr. 
Chuzzlewit. Leave us alone, my child. (Char, exits r., above 
house, weeping. Enter r., froin house. Old M., very feeble, 
leaning on cane. Peck, goes to meet Old M.) Well, my 
good sir, and how is my good friend this delicious morning ? 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 3 1 

Old M. (r.). Do you mean me ? 

Peck. (r. c). Ah ! one of his deaf days, I see. {Goes 
to Old M. and leads him to chair R. of table.) Could I mean 
any one else, my dear sir ? 

Old M. (sitting r. of table). You might have meant Mary. 

Peck. (r. c). Indeed I might. Quite true. I might 
speak of her as a dear friend, I hope? 

Old M. 1 hope so. I think she deserves it. 

Peck. Think ! Think ! Mr. Chuzzlewit ! 

Old M. You are speaking, I know, but I don't catch what 
you say. 

Peck, {aside). He's getting deafer than a flint. {Aloud.) 
I was saying, my dear sir, that I am afraid I must make up 
my mind to part with Cherry. 

Old M. What has she been doing ? 

Peck, (aside). He puts the most ridiculous questions I ever 
heard ! He's a child to-day. {Aloud.) She hasn't been 
doing anything, my dear friend. 

Old M. Then what are you going to part with her for ? 

Peck. She hasn't her health by any means. She misses 
her sister, my dear sir ; they doted on each other from the 
cradle, and I think of giving her a run to London for a change. 
A good long run, sir, if 1 feel she likes it. 

Old M. Quite right. It's judicious. 

Peck. I am glad to hear you say so. I hope you mean to 
bear me company in this dull part while she is away. 

Old M. I have no intention of removing from it. 

Peck. Then why, my good sir, can't you come and stay 
with me ? Such a place as the Dragon, however well con- 
ducted, is hardly a home for Miss Graham. 

Old M. No, you are quite right, it is not. 

Peck. Then why not bring Miss Graham here, sir ? Our 
lovely friend shall occupy my daughter's room ; you shall 
choose your own — we shall not quarrel, I hope. 

Old M. We are not likely to do that. 

Peck, (pressing his hand). We understand each other, 
my dear sir, I see ! (Aside.) I can wind him 'round my 
little finger. (Crosses to l. c, back of table.) 

Old M. You leave the recompense to me ? 

Peck. (l. c). Oh, do not speak of recompense. 

Old M. I wish to pay as I go, even when I buy of you ; not 
that I do not leave a balance to be settled one day, Pecksniff. 

Peck. May that day be far distant. (Fulls out handker- 



32 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



chief and wipes his eyes.) Ah ! sir, if I could say how deep 
an interest I have in you and yours ! I allude to our beautiful 
young friend 

Old M. You mean Mary? 

Peck. Yes, if her position could be altered or defined, sir ! 

Old M. Should I make her a seamstress or a governess ? 

Peck. Heaven forbid, my dear sir ; there are other ways, 
there are indeed, but I am much excited and embarrassed, and 
my feelings will not consent to be entirely smothered like the 
young children in the Tower. They are grown up, and the 
more I press the bolster on them the more they look around 
the corner of it. I — I — would rather not pursue the subject. 
I will resume it at some other time — bless you ! 

(Apparently overcome ^ goes L.) 

Old M. {rising and going up to gate). Your good inten- 
tions have unnerved you ; a little walk will do you good ! 
Will you accompany me back to the Dragon ? 

Peck, {going up quickly to Old M.). With pleasure. 

[ They exeunt through gate to L. 

Enter Tom, from house. 

Tom {crossing and putting table to rights'). No news from 
America, from young Mr. Martin. Poor Mary will break her 
heart. Poor Mary ! She loves him dearly ! And to be loved 
by her he ought to be a happy fellow. {Sighs. ) Ah ! had I 
been like him — handsome, talented and amiable, I might have 
known the blessing of being loved by one like her. Like her? 
No, no ; there is no other in the world like her — not one. 

Enter Mary Graham, agitated a?td hastily, from r., through 
gate. 

Mary {coming down r. c). Ah, Mr. Pinch, I'm glad I 
found you. Why, there are tears in your eyes. 

Tom {at back of table). Eh ? Bless me ! ( Wipes his eyes.) 
So there are. I was thinking of poor Martin. (Mary turns 
away, r.) Now don't start and look so pale, Miss Mary, pray 
don't. {Goes to her.) Bless me ! there's something the mat- 
ter. [Leads her to chair r. of table.) I'm, sure there is, so 
don't deceive me ! You are alarmed ! 

Mary {sitting r. of table). Mr. Pinch, I have hitherto 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 33 

hesitated to confide in you, though Martin desired me to do so. 
Oh, Mr. Pinch, I am really very wretched ! 

{Places handkerchief to her eyes.) 

Enter Peck., at back, from l. Seeing them^ he softly enters 
gate and steals behind tree or bush up L. and listens. 

Tom (r. c). Dear, dear ! What is the matter, Miss Mary? 
Trust me, do. I'm a poor, shy, awkward creature, and you 
should think no more of me, bless you, than if I were a toasting 
fork, or a frying-pan ; but anything I can do I will. 

Mary. Dear Mr. Pinch, 1 cannot tell you how your kind- 
ness moves me ! One reason that I did not consult you is 
that you are an unflinching advocate of poor Martin's greatest 
enemy, Mr. Pecksniff. (Peck, dodges down behind the bush.) 
Mr. Pinch, you are mistaken in him. That person whom 
you think is the best of men is the worst, the falsest, most 
shameless ! 

Tom. Mercy on us ! Good gracious ! What has he done ? 

Mary. What is he, who, knowing how defenseless and 
alone I am, persecutes and affronts me with his loathsome 
advances ? 

Tom. Whoever he may be he is a scoundrel. But pray 
don't say it's Pecksniff ! Don't, Miss Mary, don't. 

Mary. What is he, who, now that my only friend has 
sunk into the helplessness of declining age, can use the in- 
fluence he has basely gained for every despicable and wicked 
purpose ? 

Tom. I say he is a scoundrel ! 

{Crosses to l. c. Peck, rises.) 

Mary. What is he, who, thinking he could compass these 
designs the better were I his wife, assails me with a coward's 
argument, that if I marry him, Martin, on whom I have 
brought so much misfortune, shall be restored to something 
of his former hopes with his grandfather, and if I do not, he 
shall be plunged into deeper ruin ? 

(Peck., who has been listeningy plunges down again.) 

Tom (l. c). I say he is a scoundrel, a double-dyed vil- 
lain ! Is — {leaning toward Mary) is it Pecksniff ? 
Mary. Alas, Mr. Pinch, it is. ( Weeps bitterly.) 



34 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Tom (crosshig to back of Mary's chair). Don't weep — 
don't weep. I'll protect you ; aye, even from Pecksniff him- 
self. To think I have been so deceived in him ! To think 
that he — he should be such a villain ! Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! 
Don't cry; now, don't. {Turns away wipi7ig his eyes.) 

Mary {risifig). I cannot talk more to you now. I will 
see you presently. I know you will befriend me, Mr. Pinch. 
Pardon me ; pray pardon me now. 

[Goes up c. to gate followed by Tom. Mary exits hastily 
to R.) 

Tom (lip c). Befriend you? Indeed I will. I wouldn't 
have cared for anything he had done to me ; but her — her ! 
He's a villain, a scoundrel, an iniquitous alligator, a rascal, 

a Oh, oh, oh ! I'll not stay in his house. 

\^Exit into house in an overpowering passion, 

(Peck, rises coolly ; adjusts his hair and dress.) 

Peck. Very good, very good ; Mr. Pinch, you shall not 
stay. (^Cojnes down l. c.) I'll discharge a duty to society 
and you at once. And she, too. But no matter, I have the 
imbecile old man under my control, and with the blessing of 
Providence, I will take a bitter revenge on them all ! Very 
good ! {Walks to r. and returfis.) Very good ! 

Enter Old M.. from l., through gate. 

Old M. {coming down L. c). What is the matter, Peck- 
sniff? 

Peck, {crossing to Old M.). My good, my worthy friend, 
I am deceived. 

Old M. Deceived ? 

Peck. In the tenderest point, beloved friend, by Thomas 
Pinch. In a matter that concerns you. 

Old M. Oh, bad, bad ; are you certain ? 

Peck. My eyes and my ears are witnesses. If a fiery ser- 
pent had proclaimed it from the top of Salisbury Cathedral, I 
would have cast the falsehood back into the — er — serpent's 
teeth, such was my faith in Thomas Pinch. But I am not a 
serpent myself, sir, I grieve to say, and no hope is left me. 

Old M. On what subject has he deceived you ? 

Peck. That is the worst of it. It concerns you. But you 
shall be righted. ( Going to back of table ^ calls.) Jane ! Jane ! 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 35 

(Jane enters from house, ^ Be kind enough to send Mr. Pinch 
here if you please, and have his box packed and ready for re- 
moval. (^Crosses to r. c. Jane exits to house. ^ 

Enter U.\ry from r. through gate ; greatly agitated. 

Mary (coming down L. C. to Old M.). Oh, my dear sir I 
He — he is there at the gate. Oh, pray, sir, receive him kindly ! 

Old M. (l. ^Mary). Who — who? 

Peck. Who, my child ? 

Mary. Martin, your grandson, Martin. 

Peck, (starting up and calli?ig). Lock the gate. Admit 
no one. 

(Goes up toward gate ^ stops up l. c. as Mar. enters.^ 

Enter Mar. suddenly ; he advances down l. c. Mary steps 
back, L. 

Mar. Grandfather — dear grandfather ! 

(He advances ; Peck, stops him.') 

Peck. No, young man, no, sir, none of that ! If you must 
strike, strike here, sir, here ! Launch your arrows at me, sir, 
if you will have the goodness, not at him. 

Mar. (c). Hear me, I implore you, sir ! Let me but speak 
to you ! 

(Mary comes down l. of Oud M., taking his arm imploringly.) 

Peck, (dodging about to keep between them). Would you, 
sir, would you ? Would you strike at venerable virtue ? Know 
that it is not defenseless. I — I will be its shield, young man, 
assail me ! Come on, sir, fire away ! 

Old M. (l., aside). How fresh and full the hopes of days 
long past return again ! (Aloud.) Pecksniff, stand aside, and 
let me see him I used to love so dearly. 

Peck. (l. c). There, beloved sir ! Behold the monster 
who but for me would do you a mortal injury ! 

(Stands aside.) 

Old M. And that is he. (Aside.) Changed! (With a 
heavy sigh.) Say what you wish to say, but come no nearer. 

Mar. (c). Sir, from a painful journey, from a hard life, 
from privation and distress, gloom and disappointment, sick- 
ness and despair, I have returned to you. 



36 THE CHUZZLEWITS ^ 

Peck. Of course ! Vagabonds generally do. 

Mar. But for a faithful friend I must have died in a for- 
eign land. Yet think not I have been driven here wholly by 
want — that affection and regret have had no share in this. 
When I parted from you, grandfather, I deserved that suspicion ; 
I do not now. {IViih a sigh.) Let the voice of nature and 
association plead between us. Do not, for one fault, however 
thankless, quite reject me. I am now changed, sir, changed 
by dire experience and calamity. 

(Old M., overcome by the appeal, sinks on to seat, L., and 
buries his face in his hands. Mary stands back of him.) 

Peck. My dear sir, you must not give way to this. You 
must not allow this fellow's shameless conduct to move you so. 
Rouse yourself. Think of me, my friend. 

Old M. {looki?ig up sternly), I will. You recall me to 
myself. I will think of you. 

Peck. Shall I give expression to your thoughts, my friend ? 

( Wipes his eyes.) 

Old M. Yes, speak for me. Thank you ! 

Peck. Young man, blush if you can; begone without a 
blush if you can't ! You shall not wrong the revered gentle- 
man, sir, whilst 1 have life ! You must strike at him through 
me. Aye, sir, through me. And in such a cause you will find 
me, my young sir, an ugly customer ! 

Mar. {to Old M., heedless of Peck.). Will you give me 
no answer, sir ; not a word ? 

Old M. You hear what has been said by my best friend ? 

Mar. I only hear what you say to me, sir. 

Old M. {to Peck.). You have nothing more to say, noth- 
ing more to urge ? Remember, Pecksniff, I will oppose noth- 
ing that you ask of me. 

Peck. (l. c). Oh, oh, this kindness ! It's too much ! 
Let me — oh, let me kiss your beloved hand ! No, no, I have 
nothing further to say. 

Old M. {to Mar.). You have heard him. It is all over. 
Go, sir, go ! 

Peck. Yes, go, viper ! Rattlesnake, go ! 

(Mar. goes up to gate.) 
Mary {rushing to Mar. up c). Oh, Martin ! 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



37 



Mar. My dear girl, he has not changed you ? I have still 
one blessing left ? 

Marv. Changed, Martin ! Oh, never 1 Do not fear ; I 
will remain true to him and you, Martin, till the last ; and 
should he awaken from his delusion, even at the point of death, 
I am here, love, to recall you to his thoughts. 

Mar. My dear, dear girl ! 

Mary. Farewell, Martin. 

Mar. Farewell, Mary ! Dear girl, I will deserve you yet ! 

(Mar. exits to r., through gate. Mary exits, weepings to 
house. ~) 

Peck. And now, dear friend, I have a duty to discharge 
which I owe to society, and that duty I shall discharge at any 
cost, at any cost. (Sits l. of table. A pause.) 

Enter Tom from house. He pauses, r. Peck, looks sternly 
at him. A pause. 

Old M. Pecksniff, what does this mean ? 

Peck. My good sir, I am about to discharge a duty I owe 
to society. {Rises, facing Tom.) Mr. Pinch, just now whilst 
sitting in that room {pointing to the house) the heat of the day, 
and the fatigue from a ramble I had taken, overcame me, and 
I fell asleep. I was awakened by the sound of voices — one was 
that of a lady — can you guess whose the other ? Oh ! Mr. 
Pinch, Mr. Pinch, I wonder you can look me in the face. 

{Takes out fnoney from pocket.) 

Tom (r.). I have nothing to be ashamed of, sir. 

Peck. (c). Then you have a hardened conscience, Mr. 
Pinch. But I will not dismiss you without a word of explana- 
tion. From fragments of that conversation of which I was un- 
wittingly the listener, I ascertained that you, forgetful of all ties 
of duty and of honor, presumed to address Miss Graham with 
unreturned professions of attachment and proposals of love. 
(Tom starts, looks at Peck., who evades his look.) Do you 
deny it? 

Tom {after a pause). Deny it ? I deny nothing — and ad- 
mit nothing. I have nothing to say. 

Peck. Nothing to say! {To Old M.) You hear, sir? 
{Hands money to Tom.) Then oblige me by counting that, the 



38 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

exact sum due to you to this day, I believe. One pound, two 
shillings, and four-pence. You find it correct ? 

Tom {mechanically counting^. Quite correct, sir. 

Peck. You have the keys of the church, I think ? 

Tom {sadly). Yes, sir. 

Peck. Oblige me with them, if you please. (Tom takes 
the keys from his pocket a?id looks at them intently.) Put them 
down on the table, please. (Tom slowly puts them dowti on 
table. Peck, removes table to l.) I — I have requested Jane 
to pack and cord your trunk, and there is a person in the kitchen 
who will take your luggage wherever you please. We part, Mr. 
Pinch, at once, and are strangers from this time. (Jane e?iters 
from house, carryifig Tom's overcoat, small carpet-bag and 
hat. Tom takes them and shakes her by the hand. Jane runs 
back into the house and returns with an old fiddle and bow, 
which she takes to Tom. He puts thetn under his arm and 
goes toward gate. Peck., l. c.) I will not say how much 
this tries me. 1 have been nourishing in my breast an ostrich 
and not a human pupil. I can only hope that this deception 
will not impair my freshness or contract — my — pinions. I 
hope not. {Crosses to steps of house.) I shall endeavor not 
to think the worse of my fellow creatures for what has passed 
between us. Farewell. 

i^He puts his ha?idker chief to his eyes ; Tom pauses in the 
gateway and turns and looks at him. Old M. rises, 
makes a sudden step toward Tom, then checks himself. 
Peck, strikes an attitude, with his hand in his waistcoat. 
Jane wipes her eyes with her apron.) 

CURTAIN 



SCENE 2. — The I?in in Holborn. A garret room. Fire- 
place down R. Door, r., above fireplace. Door, L., 1st 
entrance. Window, c, in fiat. Table, r. c, in front of 
fireplace. Chair l. of table. Another chair, L. Rocking- 
chair in front of fireplace. An old bureau, l. Candles 
lighted on mantel and table. 

(Betsy Prig is sitting in armchair in front of fireplace 
sipping from glass. Mr. Mould is standing lookirig out 
of wi7idow, his hands behind him. There is the sound of 
gentle hammering at back.) 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



39 



Mould. Quite the buzz of insects. It puts one in mind of 
the sound of animated nature in the agricultural districts. It's 
exactly like the woodpecker tapping. 

Betsy. The woodpecker tapping the hollow elm tree. 

Mould. Ha, ha ! Not at all bad, Mrs. Prig. We shall 
be glad to hear from you again, Mrs. Prig. Hollow elm tree, 
eh? Ha, ha ! Very good indeed. I've seen worse than that 
in the Sunday papers, Mrs. Prig. 

{Knock at door^ l.) 

Betsy. That's Gamp ; I know by the wheezing she makes. 
Come in, Sairy. {Enter Sarah Gamp. She has a large 
bundle y pair of pattens ^ large folded blue umbrella. She stops 
just inside the door on seeing Mould.) I began to think you 
wa'n't a-comin' I 

Sarah. It shall be made good to-morrer night, honorable. 
I had to go and fetch my things. 

Mould. Now, Mrs. Gamp, what's your news ? 

Sarah (curtseying). There are some 'appy creeters as time 
runs back'ards with, and you are one, Mr. Mould. I says to 
Mrs. 'Arris, only t'other day, the last Monday evenin' fort- 
night as ever dawned on this Pilgian's Projiss of a mortal wale; 
I says to Mrs. 'Arris when she says to me, '' Years and our 
trials, Mrs. Gamp, sets marks upon us all," '*Say not the 
words, Mrs. 'Arris, if you and me is to continual friends, for 
sech is not the case. Mr. Mould," I says, making so free, I 
will confess, to use the name (curtseying)^ "is one of them as 
goes agen the obserwation straight; and never, Mrs. 'Arris, 
whilst I've a drop of breath to draw, will I set by, and not 
stand up, don't think it." " I ast your pardon, ma'am," says 
Mrs. 'Arris, "and I humbly grant your grace, for if ever a 
woman lived as would see her feller creeters into fits to serve 
her friends, well do I know that woman's name is Sairy Gamp." 

Mould. Mrs. Gamp can drink a glass of something warm, 
I dare say. Sit down, Mrs. Gamp, sit down. 

(Sarah sits in chair near door, raises her eyes to ceiling 
and pretends to be unconscious of the fact that Betsy is 
mixing her a glass of spirits. Betsy hands it to her, 
much to Sarah's surprise, and returns to her seat by fire.) 

Sarah. A thing as hardly ever, Mr. Mould, occurs with 
me unless it is when I am indispoged, and find my 'alf-a-pint 
of porter settling 'eavy on my chest. Mrs. 'Arris often and 



40 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

often says to me, *'Sairy Gamp," she says, *< you rally do 
amaze me ! " " Mrs. 'Arris," I says to her, ** why so? Give 
it a name, I beg." "Tellin' the truth then, ma'am," says 
Mrs. 'Arris, "and shamin' him as shall be nameless betwixt 
you and me, never did I think till I knowed you as any woman 
could sick-nuss on the little that you take to drink." The best 
of lucks to all. 

(Sarah drinks rapidly ^ then ivipes her lips upon her shawl 
and takes a bit of cracker from her pocket and nibbles it.') 

Mould. And what's your news, Mrs. Gamp ? 

Sarah. Mr. Chuffey, sir, is jest as usual; he ain't no bet- 
ter, and he ain't no wuss. I take it very kind of Mr. Jonas to 
have wrote up to you, and said, '' Let Mrs. Gamp take care of 
'im till I com.e 'ome " ; but ev'rythink he does is kind. There 
ain't many like 'im. If there was, we wouldn't want no 
churches. Now 'ere's this gent been took sick, 'ere at this inn 
at 'Olborn, and is sick abed. Mrs. Prig is day nuss, but she is 
otherwise engaged at night, and they is consequently in want 
of night-watching. " Now," I says to myself, " bein' in a light 
place, where I am, and this job promisin' well, why not unite 
the two?" 

Mould {rubbing his chin). Night-watching, eh ? 

Sarah. From eight till eight, sir. I'll not deceive you. 

Mould. And then go back, eh ? 

Sarah. Quite free, sir, to attend to Mr. Chuffey. His 
ways bein' quiet, and his hours early, he'd be abed, sir, nearly 
all the time. I will not deny {with ineekness') that I am but a 
poor woman, and that the money is a objick, but do not let 
that act upon you, Mr. Mould ! Rich folks may ride on 
camels, but it ain't so easy for 'em to see out of a needle's eye. 
That is my comfort, and I 'ope I knows it. 

Mould. Well, Mrs. Gamp, I don't see any particular ob- 
jection to your earning an honest penny under such circum- 
stances. I should keep it quiet, I think, Mrs. Gamp; I 
wouldn't mention it to Mr. Chuzzlewit on his return, for in- 
stance, unless it were necessary, or he asked you pointblank. 
{Knock at door, L. Sarah rises and retires up back.) 
Come in. 

Enter Mar. 

Mar. Is the patient better ? 
Mould. Worse ! 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 4I 

Betsy. Much wuss ! Oh ! a deal badder I 

Mar. Poor fellow ! I'm sorry to hear it. The worst of it 
is that I've no idea what friends or relations he has, or where 
they live, except that it's certainly not in London. 

Betsy. Well ! Of all the many wague directions I've ever 
seen or 'eard of that's the waguest. 

Mar. The fact is, as I told you yesterday when you sent 
to me, I really know very little about him. We were school- 
fellows together, but since that time I've only met him twice. 
The letter bearing my name and address, which you found 
upon his table, and which led to your applying to me, is in 
answer, you will observe, to one he wrote from this house the 
very day he was taken ill, making an appointment with him at 
his request. Here is his letter if you wish to see it. {Hands 
letter to Mould, who reads it. Mar. addresses Betsy.) Has 
he any luggage ? 

Betsy. Nuthin' but a portmanteau^ and werry little in it. 

Mar. a few pounds in his purse, though ? 

Betsy {hesitating). Yes. I give it to the landlord and he 
sealed it up. I made a memorandum of the amount which 
you're welcome to see. 

Mar. {to Mould). Have you anything to suggest ? 

Mould. N-no, except 

Mar. Except who's to pay, I suppose. 

Mould. Why, it would be as well. 

Betsy. Quite as well. 

Mar. It is but reasonable, I fully admit. At all events, 
you have the stock in hand to go upon for the present, and I 
will readily undertake to see that you {addressing Mould) and 
the nurses are paid. 

Sarah {coining forward). Ah ! A rayal gentleman ! 
{They all turn and look at her.) The night nuss {curtseying) 
from Kingsgate Street, well beknown to Mrs. Prig, the day 
nuss, and the best of creeters ! If the poor dear gentleman 
ain't no better yet, still that is what must be expected and pre- 
pared for. It ain't the fust time by many a score {curtseyi?ig) 
that Mrs. Prig and me has nussed together, turn and turn 
about, one off, one on. We knows each other's ways, and 
often gives relief when others fail. Our charges is but low, 
sir, considerin* the natur of our painful duty. 

Mar. Well, I'll look in in the morning. 

Mould. I'll go along with you, sir. {To Sarah.) Be 
sure he has his draughts regularly. 



42 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Sarah. Oh, surely, sir, you can trust to Sairy Gamp. 
(^Curtseys. JSxetmt, Mar. and Mould, u Sarah /^ Betsy.) 
And how is he? {Nods toward door, r.) 

Betsy. Oh, he's quiet, but his wits is gone. It ain't no 
matter what you say. 

Sarah. Anythin' to tell before you goes, my dear ? 

{Puts her bundle dozvn beside the door and looks affection- 
ately at BetsYo) 

Betsy. The pickled salmon is quite delicious, I can par- 
tic' lar recommend it. Don't have nothin' to say to the cold 
meat, for it tastes of the stable. The drinks is all good. 

Sarah {expressing herself much gratified'). Ah ! 

Betsy. The physic and them things is on the mankelshelf. 
He took his last slime draught at seven. The easy chair ain't 
soft enough ; you'll want his piller. 

Sarah. Thank ye, my dear. {Holds the door , L., open for 
Betsy, who disappears down the hallway. She closes the door, 
takes up bundle, goes up and looks out of window.) A little 
dull, but not as bad as might be. I'm glad to see aparapidge, 
in case of fire, and lots of roofs and chimley pots to walk upon. 
( Goes to fireplace and sits in easy chair.) Harder than a brick 
badge! {Pursues researches amo7ig physic bottles, glasses, 
jugs and teacups. Takes off bonnet and goes into room, R. 
Pause. Rehiters.) Ah! he'd make a lovely corpse ! {Lights 
candle, fills small kettle with water, and sets table with tea 
things, pulls bell rope, unpacks bundle. Enter Maid.) I 
think, young woman, that I could pick a little bit of pickled 
salmon. I takes new bread, my dear, with just a little pat of 
fresh butter, and a mossel of cheese. In case there should be 
sech a thing as a cowcumber in the 'ouse, will you be so kind 
as bring it, for I'm rather partial to 'em and they does a world 
of good in a sick room. If they draws the Brighton Tipper 'ere 
I takes that ale at night, my love, it bein' considered wakeful 
by the doctors. Look sharp ! {Exit servant. Sarah takes 
out of bundle a yellow nightcap of prodigious size ; takes off 
row of false curls ; puts on nightcap and adjusts it with great 
care; takes out night jacket and puts it on. Enter servafit 
with supper on tray ; Sarah takes it and arranges it on table. 
Exit servant. Sarah sits down to eat.) Ah ! what a blessed 
thing it is — living in a wale — to be contented ! what a blessed 
thing it is to make sick people 'appy in their beds, and never 
mind one's self as long as one can do a service ! I don't be- 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 43 

lieve a finer cowcumber was ever grow'd. I'm sure I never see 
one 1 I a' most forgot the piller, 1 declare ! {Rises.) 
Lewsome (Jn rooniy r., calling loudly). Chuzzlewit ! 

(Sarah jumps in terror, runs to door, l., looks into hall, 
goes to window, looks out.) 

Sarah. It seemed to make the werry bottles ring. What 
could I ha' been a-dreamin' of? {Goes back to chair and sits 
down.) That dratted Chuffey, I'li be bound. 

Lew. {appearing in door, r., in old dressing-gown and night- 
cap, staring wild-eyed). Chuzzlewit! Jonas! No! 

Sarah {starting up). Drat the man ! {Goes to \aY?N., takes 
him by the arm, shakes him, and leads him to armchair, L. of 
table.) Don't make none of that noise 'ere. (Lew. sits un- 
easily, his head rollitig back and forth on the chair back. 
Sarah goes back to table and sits.) Ah ! I thought things 
was too pleasant to last ! The devil's in the night, I think, it's 
turned so chilly. {Drinks.) 

Lew. {wildly). Don't drink so much ! You'll ruin us all. 
Don't you see how the fountain sinks? Look at the mark 
where the sparkling water was just now ! 

Sarah. Sparklin' water, indeed ! I'll have a sparklin' cup 
o' tea, I think. I wish you'd 'old your noise ! 

Lew. {laughing tvildly, then checking himself, counting in- 
tensely a?idfast). One — two — three — four — five — six. 

Sarah. One, two, buckle my shoe. {Goes down on her 
knees and biotas the fire) Three, four, shut the door. I 
wish you'd shut your mouth, young man. Five, six, pickin* 
up sticks. If I'd got a few handy, I should have the kettle 
bilin' all the sooner. {Busies herself with the fire.) 

Lew. {after a pause). That makes five hundred and twenty- 
one men, dressed all alike, and with the same distortion on 
their faces, that have passed in at the window, and out at the 
door. Look there ! Five hundred and twenty-two — twenty- 
three — twenty-four. Do you see them ? 

Sarah. Ah ! 1 see 'em ; all the whole kit of 'em numbered 
like 'ackney coaches, ain't they? 

Lew. Touch me ! Let me be sure of this. Touch me ! 

Sarah. You'll take your next draught when I've made the 
kettle bile, and you'll be touched then. You'll be touched up, 
too, if you don't take it quiet. 

Lew. Five hundred and twenty-eight, five hundred and 
twenty-nine, five hundred and thirty Look here ! 



44 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



Sarah. What's the matter now ? 

{Rises with kettle and makes tea at table.) 

Lew. They're coming four abreast, each man with his arm 
entwined in the next man's, and his hand upon his shoulder. 
What's that upon the arm of every man, and on the flag ? 

Sarah. Spiders, p'raps. 

Lew. Crape ! Black crape ! Good God ! Why do they 
wear it outside ? 

Sarah. Would you have 'em carry black crape on their in- 
sides ? 'Old your noise, 'old your noise. 

(Lew. quiets down, his head ceases to roll, he sleeps. Sarah 
pours cup of tea, atid is ifi the act of dri7ikiiig, when) 

CURTAIN DESCENDS 

{Pause to represent lapse of hours.) 

CURTAIN RISES 

(// is morniiig. Sarah is asleep in rocking-chair. Lew. in 
chair as before. The tea things are still on table. Can- 
dles have burned out. The door, L., is shaken. Pause. 
Shaketi agai?i. Sarah, rousing with a start, goes to door 
and unbolts it, admitting Betsy.) 

Sarah. Good-mornin', Betsy, you're bright and early. 

Betsy {crossing to Lew.). And how are we by this time? 
We looks charmin'. 

Sarah. We looks a deal charminer than we are then. We 
got out of bed back'ards, I think, for we're as cross as two 
sticks. 

Lew. Oh, dear me ! Oh, dear, dear ! 

Sarah. There, that's the way he's been a-conductin' of 
'imself, Betsy, ever since he got out of bed, if you'll believe it. 

Betsy. Instead of bein' grateful for all our little ways. Oh, 
fie, for shame, sir, fie, for shame. 

{Knock at door. Sarah opens door.) 

Enter Mar. 

Mar. Good-morning. {Sees Lew., crosses to him and sits 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



45 



down beside him.) Up and dressed. That's brave. How do 
you feel ? 

Lew. Much better, but very weak. 

Mar. No wontier. You have had a hard bout of it. But 
country air and change of scene will make another man of you ! 

Lew. {seizitig Mar. by the sleeve). Mr. Chuzzlewit ! I 
don't wish to be overheard. I have something very particular 
and strange to say to you ; something that has been a dreadful 
weight on my mind through this long illness. 

Mar. {turning quickly to Sarah aiid Betsy). Would you 
mind leaving us alone together for a short time? Perhaps I 
can soothe him if I stay and talk quietly with him for a little. 

Sarah. Oh, bless you, no ! He hates his nusses to this 
hour. They always does it, sir. It's a certain sign. If you could 
have heerd the poor, dear soul a-findin' fault with me and Betsy 
Prig a while ago, you'd wonder how it is we don't get fretted 
to the tomb. 

{Curtseys at the door, l., which she holds open while Betsy 
sails out, followed by Sarah.) 

Lew. {after the door closes). Bolt the door. 

(Mar. does so and comes back to his chair by Lew. , who sits 
with his head resting on his hand.) 

Mar. What is it that is disturbing you, my friend ? 

Lew. {looking up). What relation was Mr. Anthony Chuz- 
zlewit, who 

Mar. Who died — to me? He was my grandfather's 
brother. 

Lew. I fear he was made away with — murdered ! 

Mar. My God ! By whom ? 

Lew. {looking down). I fear, by me. 

Mar. By you ? 

Lew. Not by my act, but I fear by my means. 

Mar. Speak out ! and speak the truth. ^ 

Lew. Listen ! I have been bred a surgeon, and for the 
last few years have served a general practitioner in the city as 
his assistant. While I was in his employment I became ac- 
quainted with Jonas Chuzzlewit. 

Mar. What do you mean ? Do you know he is the son of 
the old man of whom you have spoken ? 

Lew. I do. I have reason to know it ; for I have often 
heard him wish his father dead, and complain of his being 



46 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

wearisome to him. He was in the habit of doing so at a place 
of meeting we had ; three or four of us, at night. There was 
no good in the place, you may be sure, when you hear that he 
was the chief of the party. I wish I had died myself, and 
never seen it ! (Pause. He rests his head on his hafid again. 
Mar. gazes at him in horror.) We met to drink and game, 
not for large sums, but for sums that were large for us. He 
generally won. Whether or no, he lent money at interest to 
those who lost ; and in this way, though I think we all secretly 
hated him, he came to be master of us. To propitiate him, we 
made a jest of his father — it began with his debtors ; I was one — 
and we used to toast a quicker journey to the old man, and a 
swift inheritance to the young one. (Pauses as before.^ One 
night he came there in a very bad humor. He had been 
greatly tried, he said, by the old man that day. He and I 
were alone together, and he angrily told me that the old man 
was in his second childhood ; that he was weak, imbecile and 
driveling, and that it would be a charity to put him out of the 
way. He swore that he had often thought of mixing some- 
thing with the stuff he took for his cough, which should help 
him to die easily. People were sometimes smothered who were 
bitten by mad dogs, he said ; and why not help these lingering 
old men out of their troubles, too ? He looked full at me as 
he said so, and I looked full at him ; but it went no farther 
that night. (Pause.) 

Mar. Go on. 

Lew. It may have been a week after that when he spoke to 
me again. We were alone then, too. He was reading a news- 
paper when I went in, and nodded to me without looking up 
or leaving off reading. I sat down opposite and close to him. 
He said, immediately, that he wanted me to get him some of 
two sorts of drugs. One that was instantaneous in its effect, 
of which he wanted very little. One that was slow, and not sus- 
picious to appearance, of which he wanted more. While he was 
speaking to me he still read the newspaper. He said *' Drugs," 
and never used any other word. Neither did I. I asked him 
what he wanted them for. He said for no harm ; to physic 
cats. What did it matter to me ? He could get them without 
my aid at half a hundred places, but not so easily as he could 
get them of me. This was true. He might not want them at 
all, he said, and he had no present idea of using them, but he 
wished to have them by him. All this time he still read the 
newspaper. We talked about the price. He was to forgive 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 47 

me a small debt — I was quite in his power — and to pay me five 
pounds ; and the matter dropped, through others coming in. 
But next night, under exactly similar circumstances, I gave 
him the drugs, and he gave me the money. We have never 
met since. I only know that the poor old father died soon 
afterward, just as he would have died from this cause, and 
that I have undergone, and suffer now, intolerable misery. 
Nothing {^stretching out his hands') can paint my misery ! It 
is well deserved, but nothing can paint it. 

{Ha7ig5 his head and sits utterly crushed.) 

Mar. (rising in agitation, goes to window, pauses, comes 
hack to Lew. afid puts his hand on his shoulder). Come, 
man I You are utterly worn out. You must get back to bed. 
We will talk of this when you are stronger. (^Goes to door, l.) 
Mrs. Gamp ! {Enter Sarah and Betsy.) Mrs. Gamp, 1 
leave the patient in your hands. I will see you again soon. 
In the meantime see that he has the best of care. Good- 
morning. \_Exit, L. 

Sarah {crossing to Lew.). I never see sech a man. He 
wouldn't be washed if he had his own way. 

Lew. {indicating Betsy, weakly). She puts the soap in my 
mouth. 

Betsy. Couldn't you keep it shut then? Who do you 
think's to wash one featur', and miss another, and wear one's 
eyes out with all manner of fine work of that description for 
'alf-a-crown a day ? 

{During the above, Sarah is getting on her shawl and bonnet.) 

Sarah. I must be gettin' back to old Chuffey. Wishin' 
you lots of sickness, my darlin' creetur, and good places. 
After this job is finished, which won't be a long one, I'm 
thinkin', I hope we may work together again, and may our 
next job be at a large fambly's where they all takes it reg'lar, 
one from another, turn and turn about, and has it businesslike. 
Good-bye, my dear. {Goes to door, L.) 

Betsy {holding door open). I don't care how soon it is, 
nor how many weeks it lasts. Good-bye. {Closing door and 
going to bureau and getting hair brush and coming back to Lew., 
seizes him by the chin, and begins rasping his head with the 
brush.) I suppose you don't like that neither. Ah ! I know'd 
as much. 

CURTAIN 



ACT IV 

SCENE I. — Tigg's dressing-room. Door in flat. Door, L., 
above fireplace. Fireplace down L. Window^ R. Dress- 
ing table and mirror, R., above window. Table, c. Chairs 
R. and L. of it. 

(TiGG, in dressing-gown, brushing his hair before mirror. 
Enter Bailey, door in flat.) 

Bailey {quickly). He's below, sir. 

TiGG. He! Who? 

Bailey. Old indiskiverable, as walks about like a werry old 
suit of clothes with nothin' in 'em. 

TiGG {quickly). Nadgett? 

Bailey. Yes, sir. 

TiGG. Quick, show him in. 

Bailey. Yes, sir — like winkin' ! [Exit, door in flat. 

TiGG {putting hair brush 07i table and turning to meet Mr. 
Nadgett, who enters quietly, closing the door softly after him). 
Well, Mr. Nadgett, did Chuzzlewit get the letter? 

Nad, Mr. Pinch gave it to him. He doesn't suspect that I 
had anything to do with it. Mr. Pinch is my lodger, sir, and 
happened to be at the wharf, so I asked him to go aboard the 
boat, and he reached him at the last minute. He was very 
angry, but came ashore and will be here soon. 

TiGG {sitting!., of table). Good! Any other news ? 

Nad. (r. c, rubbing his hands and smoothing his chin). 
Why, sir, I think it's a good case. {Produces pocketbook.) 
I've had some trouble though. 

TiGG. No, no. None of your notes. Give me word of 
mouth. 

Nad. {taking chair from up r. and bringi?ig it down to 
chair r. of table, a?td placing his pocketbook in it, sits in chair 
R. of table, speaking the while). I never talk; walls have ears. 
{Selects paper from pocketbook a7id haiids it to TiGG.) Num- 
ber one. Read that. 

TiGG {looking over paper). Ah— yes. {Indifferently.) Sus- 
picions ; nothing more. 

Nad. Number two. Read that. 

48 



THE CHUZZLEWITS ^ 49 

TiGG {looking over paper, rather astonished^. Eh ! — 
indeed ! 

Nad. {giving third paper with satisfactiofi). Number 
three. There ! 

TiGG {startifig on looking at it a moment^. The devil ! 
Nadgett, you are an extraordinary man ! A clever hand at a 
secret ! 

Nad. {puttifig up papers in pocketbook). Nothing has an 
interest to me that is not a secret. 

TiGG. We've hooked this cunning fish, but we must be 
wary how we play him ; he savors of danger. One thousand 
we have made secure. We must have another. Pecksniff has 
plenty of money, plenty ! Could he by any means be had ? 
I'll try. {Knock at street door.) I think I heard a knock. 
Will you put your head out of window, and tell me if there is 
anybody at the door ? 

(Nad. goes to window a?id cautiously peers down into the 
street, drawing back his head with equal caution, but not 
altering his voice or manner.) 

Nad. Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit. 

TiGG {rising). I thought so. There's a deep impression 
of the devil's hoof here. {Pives back paper.) Take care of 
that ; it will be of use. 

Etiter Bailey, door in flat. 

Bailey. Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit, sir, and as cranky as blazes. 

Nad. Shall I go ? {Puts paper hastily in pocketbook. ) 

TiGG. No ; you'd better stay. Show him in, Bailey. {Exit 
Bailey. Tigg hastily takes off dressing-goivn and resumes his 
toilet, taking up hair brush again.) No, no. Don't leave us 
alone together. He's a dangerous man, Nadgett. By the 
Lord ! There's no knowing what might happen when he 
knows I've proof of 

Nad. Hem ! 

{Points toward door and hastens to fireplace, where he stands 
drying his handkerchief with his back to the room.) 

Enter Jonas, door in flaty very sulky. 

Tigg. Ah ! My dear Chuzzlewit, you rise with the lark 1 
How are you ? 



• 



50 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

{Puts out his hand which has the hair brush in it. Jonas 
shakes it, discovers his mistake ^ and dashes it on the floor. ^ 

Jonas. Pshaw ! I'm a light sleeper ! Better up than lying 
awake, counting those cursed city clocks striking ! \Sees Nad.) 
Who's that ? Oh ! ( Goes down r. c.) Old What's-his-name, 
looking as if he wished to skulk up the chimney ! 

TiGG {up c.). Perhaps he does. {Picks up brush J) 

Jonas. Well, we don't want him, do we? (Tigg ^^;«^^ 
toward him.) He's rather afraid of me, I think. 

TiGG {loo king furtively at Jonas, atid brushing his whiskers'). 
Do you know, it's my belief that you are poison to him. 

Jonas {starting). Poison ! 

TiGG. Hullo, Jonas! What's the matter with your lips ? 
{Starts back in alarm.) Where the deuce is the towel ? (Nad. 
quickly brings towel from chair by fireplace, and hatids it to 
Jonas. Slight pause afid Nad. returns to fireplace. TiGG, 
up c.) Anything the matter, eh? 

Jonas {passionately, throwing towel on the floor). No ! 
Say what you've got to say, and let my face be. I can show 
my teeth when I want. That's enough for you. Why have 
you sent for me ? 

TiGG {going 071 with his dressifig and avoiding the question). 
But what is a light sleeper, Jonas ? 

Jonas {impatiently, and walking to the window). Hang a 
light sleeper ! 

TiGG (sitting in chair r. of table, and eyeing him sigtiifl- 
cantly). No, no, we won't do that. I know, — dreams — starts 
— nightmare — ugly faces — agony and all that sort of thing — I 
see. 

Jonas {coming toward him). Do you ? If you won't come 
to the point, I will. I'm not satisfied with the state of our af- 
fairs. 

TiGG. No? Bless me ! That's very odd, my dear 

Jonas {abruptly). No, I'm not ! And mark me ! — I'll 
play the devil with the office, and oblige you to buy me out at 
a high figure, if you try any of your tricks with me. I must 
have my money returned on the nail. 

TiGG {sitting back, with assurance). My dear Chuzzlewit, 
I want you to advance a little more. 

Jonas. Ha, ha ! Do you ? Devil a farthing ! 

TiGG. I do most assuredly; and, moreover, introduce a 
friend of yours. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 51 

Jonas. Of course. Ha, ha ! You'd be delighted, 1 dare 
say — and prove it to be to my advantage, too — wouldn't you ? 

(JSneeringly and going r. ) 

TiGG (rising and balancing hair brush oft finger). And it 
would be ; very much, very much. 

Jonas (r.). Oh, stuff! You can tell me how, too, can't 
you? 

TiGG (r. c, fixing his eyes on Jonas). Shall I tell you 
how? 

Jonas. I think you'd better. ( Comes threateningly toward 
TiGG.) Strange things have been done in the assurance way 
before now by strange sorts of men, and I mean to take care 
of myself. 

TiGG (crossing and sitting L. of table). Chuzzlewit ! 
(Leans forward with arms on table.) Strange things have been 
done, and are done every day ; not only in our way» but in a 
variety of other ways. And no one suspects them. But ours, 
as you say, my good friend, is a strange way ; and we strangely 
happen, sometimes, to come into the knowledge of very strange 
events. (Looks around toward Nad., and beckons to Jonas, 
who sits R. of table ^ leaning toward Tigg. Tigg leans for- 
ward and whispers in Jonas' ear. Jonas, with a cry^ places 
his ha fid on Tigg's mouth and sits back rigid with terror. 
Tigg, rising coolly, resumes his toilet.) You'll not object to 
venture a trifle more, or introduce a friend now, my dear Chuz- 
zlewit, will you ? 

Jonas (with his eyes fixed in horror on the floor). No, 
no, no ! 

Tigg (at back of table). Jonas, my dear fellow, I want 
Pecksniff in with us. You've married his daughter and know 
something of his affairs. He has money ? 

Jonas (without looking up). He has. 

Tigg. I'll leave him in your hands. Or, what say you? 
Shall we visit him together ? Come, you shall dine with us to- 
day, and we will arrange the affair over a bottle of wine. 

Jonas {still without looking up). I'll do my best. 

Tigg. A thousand thanks ! You're a noble fellow, Jonas ! 
I've not breakfasted yet. (Comes down l. q., putting on dress- 
ing-gown.') Will you join me? Coffee or chocolate? 

Jonas. Neither ! This is no breakfast hour. (Eyes him.) 

Tigg. By way of lunch, then. Which shall it be, hung 
beef or tongue ? 



52 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Jonas (sulkily). I hate 'em both ! 

TiGG. Jonas, I'd give the world for your spirits, I would 
indeed. Shall we walk down-stairs? Mr. Nadgett will order 
lunch. Come along, old fellow. 

[Goes to doory L., which he opens, and exits preceded by 
Nad.) 

Jonas {seated r. of table). By what infernal agency has he 
discovered this ? Can I have betrayed myself in any way ? 
So, then, I am in his power ! Life — money — all ! And he 
would profit by it ! Would ? He will. No ; there is a way ! 
One more crime and I am safe ! I'll do it. This very night, 
too. He drives me to it. It's his own fault. Curse him. 

CURTAIN 



SCENE 2. — At Anthony Chuzzlewit's. Same as Act II. 

(Chuf. sitting by fireplace. Sarah bustling about putting 
room to rights.) 

Chuf. {liftifig tip his hand). His son ! His son ! 

Sarah. Well, I'm sure ! You're a-settling of it, Mr. Chuf- 
fey. To your satigfaction, sir, I 'ope. But I wouldn't lay a 
pincushin' on it myself, sir, though you are so well informed. 
Drat the old creetur, a deal he knows of sons — or darters either ! 
Suppose you was to favor us with some remarks on twins, sir, 
would you be so good ! (Knock at door in flat. Sarah goes 
to door, opens it, and admits Tom, Char, ajid Mr. Moddle.) 
Why, goodness me ! To think that I should see beneath this 
blessed 'ouse, which well I know it {getting chair fro?n r. and 
bringing it forward for Char, to sit in), Miss Pecksniff, my sweet 
young lady, to be a 'ouse as there is not a many like, worse 
luck, and wishin' it ware not so. To think that 1 should see 
under this indiwidual roof Mr. Pinch. {Gets chair for Tom 
ajid places it R. ^Char.) I take the liberty, though almost 
unbeknownst, and do assure you of it, sir. Won't you sit 'ere? 
(Offers chair L. of table to Mod.) If you will excudge me I'll 
call Mrs. Chuzzlewit. {Bows and goes out door, l.) 

Char. Of course, Mr. Pinch, it will be useless for me to 
disguise, after what you have seen, that I am about to be united 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 53 

to the gentleman who is sitting there by the table. It would 
be in vain to conceal it. What do you think of him ? Pray 
let me have your candid opinion. 

Tom {doubtfully^, I should say he was a very ehgible young 
man. 

Char. I'm curious to know whether you have observed, 
or fancied, that he is of a rather melancholy turn ? 

Tom. Why, he has impressed me, at first sight, as looking 
rather low. 

Char. No, really? Well! That is quite remarkable! 
Everybody says the same. What do you think is the cause of 
his appearance of depression ? 

Tom. Well, really, I haven't the slightest idea. 

Char. My dear Mr. Pinch, I shouldn't wish it to be known, 
but I don't mind mentioning it to you, having known you for 
so many years, I refused Augustus three times. He is of a 
most amiable and sensitive nature ; always ready to shed tears 
if you look at him, which is extremely charming, and he has 
never recovered from the effect of that cruelty. Think what 
my feelings would have been if I had goaded him to suicide, 
and it had got into the papers. 

(Mod. rises and crosses back of table to window, r., and 
stands lookifig down into the street.') 

Tom (^looking at Mod,). He really looks quite low. I 
think I'll speak to him, if you don't mind. 

Char. Do, Mr. Pinch, try to cheer him up a bit. 

(Tom rises and crosses to Mod.) 

Tom {to Mod.). I wonder that in the crowded streets the 
foot passengers are not oftener run over. 

Mod. (^gloomily, still looking down into the street). The 
drivers won't do it. 

Tom. What do you mean ? 

Mod. There are some men who can't get run over. They 
live a charmed life. Coal wagons recoil from them, and even 
cabs refuse to run them down. Ah ! {Looks gloomily at Tom.) 
There are such men. One of 'em is a friend of mine. 

Etiter M.'E.R.,from L. Char, rises and crosses to her. 

Char. Merry, my darling ! here are Mr. Pinch and Mr. 
Moddle come to see you. I believe you have seen him before. 



♦ 
54 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

(Mer. crosses mid shakes hands with Tom arid Mod. Char. 
crosses to Chuf.) And how do you do, Mr. Chuffey, though it's 
of no use asking you the question, I'm well aware. (^Crossing 
front of table.) Augustus, ray sweet child, bring me a chair. 
(Mod. takes chair from r. of table ; Char, sits r. c. In an 
audible whisper to Mod., who is starting to cross to window,) 
You can come and sit by me if you like. 

(Mod. gloomily gets chair y puts it beside her and sits down 
on her right ; she puts her hand in his and covers it with 
her shawl. Mer. and Tom sta?id talking by the window.) 

Enter Sarah, from l. 

Sarah (crossing to c. a?id looking beamingly on the com- 
pany). Now, ain't we rich in beauty this 'ere jyful arternoon, 
I'm sure. I knows a lady, which her name, I'll not deceive 
you, Mrs. Chuzzlewit, is 'Arris, her 'usband's brother bein' 
six foot three, and marked with a mad bull in Wellington boots 
on his left arm, on account of his precious mother bein* wor- 
rited by one into a shoemaker's shop. And often have I said 
to Mrs. 'Arris, " Oh, Mrs. 'Arris, marm ! Your countenance 
is quite a angel's ! " Which but for pimples it would be. 
*'No, Sairy Gamp," says she, ''you best of 'ard-workin' and 
industrious creeturs as ever was underpaid at any price, which 
underpaid you are quite dif'rent, 'Arris had it done afore 
marriage at ten and six," she says, '*and wore it faithful next 
his 'eart till the color run, when the money was declined to 
give back, but he never said it was a angel's, Sairy, wotever he 
might have thought." If Mrs. 'Arris's 'usband was 'ere now 
(^looking around and dropping a curtsey) he'd speak out plain, 
he would, and his dear wife would be the last to blame him ! 
For if ever a woman lived as know'd not wot it was to form a 
wish to pizon them as 'ad good looks, and 'ad no region give 
her by the best of 'usbands, Mrs. 'Arris is the 'eavenly dispo- 
gician ! {Crosses to Chuf. and shakes him by the shoulder.) 
Rouge yourself, and look up ! Come 1 'ere's company, Mr. 
Chuffey. 

Chuf. {looking humbly aroufid the room). I'm sorry for it. 
I know I'm in the way. I ask pardon, but I've nowhere else 
to go. Where is she? (Mer. crosses to him and kneels be- 
side him on his R. Chuf. pats her cheek.) Ah ! Here she 
is ! Here she is ! She's never hard on poor old Chuffey. 
Poor old Chuff 1 Aye, aye ! It's hard to bear, but never 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 55 

mind him. He'll die one day. There are three hundred and 
sixty-five days in the year, and he may die on any one of 'em. 
Sarah {sta7iding behhid Chuf.'s chair). You're a wearing 
old soul, and that's the sacred truxh. It's a pity you don't 
know wot you say, for you'd tire your own patience out if you 
did, and fret yourself into a 'appy releage for all as knows you. 

Enter Maid, door in flat, with tray, on which are tea and 
cakes. She places them on table. 

Mer. Will you please serve tea for us, Mrs. Gamp ? 

Sarah {crossing to back of table and sitting down). And 
quite a fambly it is to make tea for, and wot a 'appiness to do it ! 
My good young 'ooman {to the servant girl), p'raps somebody 
would like to try a new-laid ^gg or two not biled too 'ard. 
Likeways, a few rounds of buttered toast, first cuttin' off the 
crust, in consequence of tender teeth and not too many of 'em, 
which Gamp 'imself, Mrs. Chuzzlewit, at one blow, bein' in 
liquor, struck out four, two single and two double, as was took 
by Mrs. 'Arris as a keepsake, and is carried in her pocket at 
this present hour, along with two cramp-bones, a bit o' ginger, 
and a grater like a blessed infant's shoe, in tin, with a little 
heel to put the nutmeg in, as many times I've seen and said 
within the month. 

(^During her speech she has served the tea, and Tom has 
passed it around to all but Chuf. After which Tom sits 
R. with teacup. There is a pause while they sip their 
tea, Sarah favorifig the company between her sips with a 
smiley a wink, or some other mark of notice.) 

Chuf. {suddenly leaning forward). Who's lying dead 
up-stairs ? 

Mer. {turning to him). No one. {Rises.) What is the 
matter? 

Chuf. All here ! Where is he then, — my old master, Mr. 
Chuzzlewit, who had the only son ? Where is he ? 

Mer. Hush ! Hush ! ( Crosses and puts cup on table 
and returns to Chuf.) That happened long ago. Don't you 
recollect ? 

Chuf. Recollect ! As if I could forget ! As if I ever 
could forget ! {Sinks back, hands over his face. Then starts 
suddenly forward.) Who's lying dead up-stairs? 

Mer. {trying to soothe him\ No one ! 

Chuf. You think not. But they don't tell you. No, no, 



56 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

poor thing ! They don't tell you. Who are these and why 
are they merrymaking here if there is no one dead? Foul 
play ! Go see who it is ! (Mer. makes a sign to the others not 
to speak to him.) Where's Jonas? 

Mer. In the country. 

Chuf. They don't tell you. They don't tell me either; 
but I'll watch ! I'll watch. They shall not hurt you. {Pats 
her hands.') Don't be frightened. When you have sat up 
watching, I have sat up watching too. Aye, aye, I have ! 
{Clinches his hands.) Many a night I've been ready ! 

Sarah {risi?ig and crossifig to back of Chuf.). Why, 
highty tighty, sir, is these your manners ? You want a pitcher 
o' cold water throwed over you to bring you 'round ; that's my 
belief; and if you was under Betsy Prig you'd have it too, I 
do assure you, Mr. Chuffey. Who's dead indeed ! It wouldn't 
be no grievous loss if some one was, I think ! 

Mer. He's quiet now, Mrs. Gamp. Don't disturb him. 

Chuf. {mutter i?ig). Foul play ! Foul play ! 

Sarah. Oh, bother the old wictim, Mrs. Chuzzlewit ; I ain't 
no patience with 'im. You give 'im his own way too much 
by 'alf. A worritin', wexagious creetur ! {Shakes him back- 
ward and forivard two or three times y and loosens his cravat.) 
There ! If you should turn at all faint we could soon rewive 
you, sir, I promige you. Bite a person's thumbs, or turn their 
fingers the wrong way, and they comes to wonderful, Lord 
bless you ! 

{During this scene Char, and Mod. have risen, and placed 
their cups on table. Mod. has taken his hat and goes 
toward door in flat.) 

Char, {to Tom, aside, on r.). Ah, Mr. Pinch ! It all 
comes of this unfortunate marriage. If my sister had not been 
so precipitate and had not united herself to a wretch, there 
would have been no Mr. Chuffey in the house. 

Tom {rising). Hush ! She'll hear you. 

Char, {raising her voice). I should be very sorry if she 
did hear me, Mr. Pinch, for it is not in my nature to add to 
the uneasiness of any person ; far less of my own sister. / 
know what a sister's duties are, Mr. Pinch, and I hope I always 
showed it in my practice. {Goes up and joins Mod.) 

Tom {crossing to Mer.). I will write to your husband and 
explain to him, as I would have done if I had met him here, 
that if he has sustained any inconvenience through my means, 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



57 



it is not my fault, a postman not being more innocent of the 
news he brings than I was when I handed him that letter. 

Mer. I thank you! It may do some good. (^They go 
toward door in flat. A door is heard to slam ; 1'om stops 
and looks at Mer. Mer., timidly.') It is Jonas 1 

Tom. I'd better not meet him on the stairs, perhaps. I'll 
wait for him here a moment. 

(^Goes up stage so that he is not seen by Jonas on his 
entratice.) 

Enter Jonas, with a bundle under his arm, door in flat. 
Mer. goes to meet him. He pushes her aside. 

Jonas {looking surlily at Char, atid Mod., who are r. c). 
I didn't know you'd got a party. 

(^Goes down l. c. and sits sulkily in chair l. of table, put- 
ting bundle on table.) 

Char. Oh, dear ! Pray don't let us intrude on your do- 
mestic happiness ! That will be a pity. We have taken 
tea here, sir, in your absence ; but if you will have the good- 
ness to send us a note of the expense, receipted, we shall be 
happy to pay it. Augustus, my love, we will go, if you please. 
It would be a pity, indeed, to spoil the bliss which this gentle- 
man always brings with him ; especially into his own home. 

Mer. (tip C, ifnploringly). Charity ! Charity ! 

Char, (zip r. c, with scorn). Merry, my dear, I am much 
obliged to you for your advice, but /am not his slave. 

Jonas. No, nor wouldn't have been if you could. We 
know all about it. 

Char, (coming down r. c. ). What did you say, sir ? 

Jonas (slouching down in his chair). Didn't you hear? 
I'm not a-goin' to say it again. If you like to stay, you may 
stay. If you like to go, you may go. But if you stay, please 
to be civil. 

Char. Beast ! (Sweeps up and turns at door.) Augus- 
tus ! He's beneath your notice ! (Mod. makes faint demon- 
stration of shaki?ig his fist. Char, screams.) Come away, 
child ! I command you ! 

(Grabs Mod. by the arm and drags him out of the room. 
Tom comes doivn r. c. Sarah crosses to k., at back. 
Jonas, looking up, perceives Tom for the first time.) 



58 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

Jonas (springing tip). Damn you ! 
(^Raises his chair to dash at Tom, then pauses irresolutely.) 

Tom. You have no cause to be violent, sir. Though what 
I wish to say relates to your own affairs, I know nothing of 
them, and desire to know nothing of them. I gave you a let- 
ter the other day when you were about to go abroad. 

Jonas. You thief, you did ! I'll pay you for the carriage 
of it one day, I will ! 

ToM. You needn't waste words or threats. I wish you to 
understand that I'm no party to the contents of that letter. 
That I know nothing of it. That I was not even aware that it 
was to be delivered to you ; and that I had it from 

Jonas. By the Lord ! I'll knock your brains out if you 
speak another word. 

{Raises chair to st?'ike Tom.) 

Mer. (running betwee?t them). Tom, for the love of heaven, 
leave the house. (Sarah throws herself on Tom, forcing him 
out of the door. Mer. closes the door after them, falls on her 
knees with her hands raised to Jonas.) Don't, Jonas ! Don't 
be harsh with me ! 

Jonas {looking down at her). So, so ! These are your 
friends, are they, when I am away ? You plot and tamper with 
this sort of people, do you ? 

Mer. No, indeed ! I have no knowledge of these secrets 
and no clew to their meaning. I've never seen him since I left 
home but once — but twice — before to-day. 

^o^k^ {sneering). Oh! But once, but twice, eh ? Which 
do you mean? Twice ««^ once perhaps. Three times ! How 
many more, you lying jade ? {He raises his hand as if to 
strike ; she shrinks down hastily.) How many more times? 

Mer. No more. The other morning, and to-day, and once 
beside. 

{He is about to strike her when a clock begins striking eight. 
He stops and listens. As the clock ceases, he reaches down 
and pulls her to her feet.) 

Jonas. Don't lie there ! Get up ! {Hauls her to her feet 
and holds her tightly by the arm.) Listen to me, young lady, 
and don't whine when you have no occasion, or I may make 
some for you. If I find him in my house again, or find that 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



59 



you have seen him elsewhere, you'll repent it. Now, attend. 
What's the time ? 

Mer. It struck eight a minute ago. 

Jonas {looking at her inteiitly and speaking with labored di s - 
tifictness). I have been traveling day and night, and am tired. 
I have lost some money and that does not improve me. Have 
Mrs. Gamp bring me up some supper, and have the truckle 
bed made up in the little room there. {Points r.) I shall 
sleep there to-night, and maybe to-morrow night ; and if I can 
sleep all day to-morrow so much the better, for I've got to sleep 
it off if I can. Keep the house quiet and don't call me. 
Mind ! Don't call me. Don't let anybody call me. Let me 
lie there. 

Mer. I understand. Is that all ? 

Jonas. All what ? You must be prying and questioning ! 
What more do you want to know ? 

Mer. I want to know nothing, Jonas, but what you tell me. 
All hope of confidence between us has long deserted me. 

Jonas. Ecod, I should hope so ! 

{Goes down to chair, r. of table.) 

Mer. {coming timidly down on his r.). But if you will tell 
me what you wish, I will be obedient and try to please you. I 
make no merit of that, for I have no friend, either in my father 
or sister, but am quite alone. I am very humble and submis- 
sive. You told me you would break my spirit, and you have 
done so. Do not break my heart, too ! 

{Lays her hand upon his shoulder timidly. He suffers it to 
remain there for a mo?nent and looks exultingly at her ; 
then shaking her hand off, he sits sullenly in chair, r. of 
table. ) 

Jonas. Well, then, show your obedience by doing what I 
tell you, without any more delay. 

(Mer., crushed and broken, exits l. Jonas, after a pause, 
pulls up his right sleeve and feels the muscles of his arm, 
with his fist clenched.') 

Enter Sarah with supper things ; she advances rather timidly 
and places them on table ; then to pretend unconcern, 
crosses toward Chuf., affecting great solicitude. 



60 *' THE CHlfzZLEWITS 

Sarah. And how is he now, sir ? 
Jonas (raising his head and staring at her'). Who ? 
Sarah. To be sure, sir, what am I thinking of! You 
wasn't 'ere, sir, when 'e was took so strange. 

{Looks toward Chuf., goes to hitfi and places her hand on 
his head.) 

Jonas. Chuffey, eh? Ha! 

Sarah. The creetur's 'ead's so 'ot that you might 'eat a 
flat-iron on it. And no wonder, I am sure, considerin' the 
things 'e said ! 

Jonas {suddenly looking around at Sarah). Said ! What 
did he say ? 

Sarah {putting her hand on her heart, turfiing up her eyes 
and speaking in a faint voice). The awfullest things, Mr. 
Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd ! Which Mrs. 'Arris's father never 
spoke a word when took so, some does and some don't, except 
sayin' when he come 'round, " Where is Sairy Gamp?" But 
raily, sir, when Mr. Chuffey comes to ask who's lyin' dead 
up-stairs, and 

Jonas {rising, aghast). Who's lying dead up-stairs ! 

Sarah {nodding and making as if swallowing). Who's 
lyin' dead up-stairs ; such was his bibil language ; and where 
was Mr. Chuzzlewit, as 'ad the only son ; and when 'e goes 
a-whisperin' softly to 'isself about foul play ; it gives me sech 
a turn, I don't denige it, Mr. Chuzzlewit, that I never could 
*ave kept myself up but for a little drain of spirits, which I 
seldom touches, but could always wish to know where to find, 
if so dispoged, never knowin' wot may 'appen next, the world 
bein' so uncertain. 

Jonas. Why, the fool's mad. {Crosses to window.) 

SarAh. That's my opinion, sir, and I will not deceive you. 
I believe as Mr. Chuffey, sir, rekwires attention, if I may make 
so bold, and should not 'ave his liberties to wex and worrit 
your sweet lady as he does. 

Jonas {looking across at Chuf.). Ecod, you're right. I 
have half a mind to shut him up. (Sarah rubs her hands, 
smiles, shakes her head, and s?iiffs expressively.) Could you 
— could you take care of such an idiot, now, in some spare 
room up-stairs ? 

Sarah. Me and a friend of mine, one off, one on, could do 
it, Mr. Chuzzlewit, our charges not bein' 'igh, but wishin' they 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 6 1 

was lower. Me and Betsy Prig, sir, could undertake Mr. Chuf- 
fey reasonable and give every satigefaction. 

Jonas {wJio has been walking up and down the room and 
glancing across at Chuf.). VVell ! Look after him for the 
present, and, let me see, three days from this time let the other 
woman come here, and we'll see if we can make a bargain of it. 
Keep your eye on him in the meantime, and don't talk about it. 
He's as mad as a March hare. 

Sarah. Madder ! A deal madder ! 

Jonas. See to him, then ; take care that he does no harm, 
and recollect what I have told you. 

Sarah (shaking Chuf., and helping him to rise, walks 
him to door in flat). Now, then, old Chuffey, come along with 
Sairy. She'll see you don't come to no harm, nor do none 
either. Out you go. \^Exit through door in flat with Chuf. 

Jonas {looking after them). Mr. Chuff, it'll be pretty easy 
to be even with you. {Lights cajidle and puts it on table.') 
It's no use doing things by halves, and as long as I stop here 
I'll take good care of you. {Sits at table and begins to eat. 
Pauses.) When I'm gone you may say what you please. 
{Eats and dri?iks.) But it's a damned strange thing {push- 
ing his plate from him) that his drivelings should have taken 
this turn just now. {Pauses. Sits looking at the floor.) I say 
just now, but for anything I know, he may have been carrying 
on the same game all along. Old dog ! He shall be gagged ! 
{Eats and drinks. Rises, locks doors ; draws curtains ; takes 
off coat and shoes ; takes smock frock and heavy boots from 
bundle and puts the77i on ; also slouch hat. Puts the boots he 
has taken off down by the door of room, r. Goes to window 
and looks cautiously out.) The streets are clear. A bad night. 
The better for my purpose ! Now, Mr. Tigg. Now to stop 
your babbling forever 1 {Goes to door in flat ; unlocks it a?id 
looks cautiously out, listening.) All's quiet. Good ! 

( Closes door softly. Blows out candle. Exits cautiously 
into room, r. Door is heard to lock from outside.) 



CURTAIN 



ACT V 

SCENE.— 6"^^.- as Act JV. Morning. 

Enter Jonas. His face is haggard. He is dressed as in 
Act /. He goes to the fireplace where a small fire is 
burning. 

Jonas. As soon as the alarm abates I must escape. Every- 
thing is lost. Pecksniff's money, too. But I've had revenge. 
The man is dead. Nothing can undo that. When will the 
body be discovered ? ( Crosses to window and looks cautiously 
out}) What's that they're reading in the shop opposite? It's 
a printed bill ! ( Gazes ititently through window.) Is it found ? 
Do they suspect me? (^Door in flat opens.) What's that? 

{Turns quickly.) 

Sarah (in doorway). A pleasant evenin* though warm, 
which bless you, Mr. Chuzzlewit, we must expect when cow- 
cumbers is three for tuppence. 

Jonas. Where's my wife ? 

Sarah. 1 don't know, sir. 

Jonas. Find her and tell her I want her here. 

Sarah. Ye-es, sir. \Exit. 

Jonas. Always stealing away from the house. She's no 
friend of mine. Who can tell what devil's mischief she and 
her friends might hatch together ! ( Crosses again to window 
and looks cautiously out. Enter Sarah.) Well, where is she? 
Has she come ? 

Sarah. No. I 'ear she left 'ere full three hours ago. 

Jonas. Left here ! Alone ? 

Sarah. I — 1 — I don't know, sir ; I never thought to ask. 

Jonas. Curse you for a fool. Let me know when she 
comes in. 

Sarah. Yes, sir. \^Exit. 

(Jonas, at window ^ looks cautiously out as before.) 

Jonas. They're still reading the paper, and a third man 
has joined them. They're having a dispute, and one of 'em 

62 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 63 

Steps back to illustrate some act by his gestures. Horror ! How 
like the blow with which I struck him down in the wood ! 

{He staggers back, dropping into a chair.) 

Enter Sarah. 

Sarah. Mr. Chuffey is a-lyin' down, and much good may 
it do him, Mr. Chuzzlewit, which 'arm it can't and good it 
may, be joyful ! 

Jonas (hoarsely^ poi?iting to chair l. of table). Sit down 
and let us get this business done. Where is the other woman ? 

Sarah {sitting nervously). The other person is with him 
now. 

Jonas (rising). That's right, he's not fit to be left to him- 
self. You Hush! [Listens.) It's nothing. You told 

me the other woman's name. I forget it. 

Sarah. I — I mentioned Betsy Prig, sir. 

Jonas. She is to be trusted, is she? 

Sarah. That she ain't ! Nor 'ave I brought her, Mr. 
Chuzzlewit. I've brought another which engages to give every 
satigefaction. 

Jonas. What's her name? (Sarah looks at him in an 
odd way, apparently afraid to a?iswer.) What's her name ? 

Sarah {hesitati?ig). Her name is — is — 'Arris. 

(Presses her hand upon her side and turns up her eyes as 
if she were going to faint away.) 

Jonas. Well ! You and she have arranged to take care of 
him, have you ? 

Sarah {nodding her head). Turn and turn about; one off, 
one on. {Places her hand on her heart.) Which fiddle- 
strings is weakness to expredge my nerves to-day ! 

Jonas. We shall not quarrel about terms. Let me see the 
other person. ( Crosses to fireplace, L. ) 

Sarah {risi?ig). The — the t'other person, sir? 

Jonas. Aye ! Go you to him and send the other here. 
Quick ! I'm busy. 

(Sarah takes two or three backward steps toward the door 
and stops.) 

Sarah. It is your wishes, Mr. Chuzzlewit, to see the t'other 
person, is it ? 



64 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

(Jonas turns to look at her^ as the door opens afid Old M. 
and Chuf. enter the room. Old M. is now erect ifi direct 
contrast to his appearance i?i previous acts. Jonas starts 
back. Chuf. remai?is up r. of door. ^ 

Old M. {coining r. c). This man is my brother's son. 
Ill-met, ill-trained, ill-begotten. If he moves from the spot on 
which he stands, open the window and call for help. 

(Sarah hurries across to wi?tdow arid stands ready to call.) 

Jonas. What right have you to give such directions in this 
house ? 

Old M. The right of your wrong-doing. Come in, there ! 

(Lew. appears in doorway.) 

]o-i>i AS {giving a startled exclamatio?i). Ah! {Steps back 
and supports himself by grasping back of chair, l. Lew. steps 
in, closing the door afid standi fig before it.) I know that fel- 
low. {Fetches his breath and poifits his finger at Lew.) He's 
the greatest liar alive. What's his last tale? Ha, ha ! You're 
rare fellows, too. Why, that uncle of mine is childish. {Points 
at Old M.) He's a greater child than his brother, my father, 
was in his old age; or than Chuffey is. What the devil do 
you mean {to Lew.) by coming here, and bringing two idiots 
with you, to take my house by storm ? Hallo, there ! Open 
the door ! Turn these strangers out ! 

Lew. You've said enough. Don't try to look bold at me. 
Go on, sir {to Old M.), bring the murdering vagabond to his 
knees. 

Sarah {at window). Go on, sir. If he wants noise he 
shall 'ave enough of it; for as sure as he's a-shiverin' from 
'ead to foot, I'll raise a huproar at this winder as shall bring 
'alf London in. 

Old M. {extending his hand toward Jonas). This is the 
man, is it ? 

Lew. You need do no more than look at him to be sure of 
that, or of the truth of what I've said. 

Old M. Oh, brother, brother ! Were we strangers half 
our lives that you might breed a wretch like this, and I make 
a desert by withering every flower that grew about me ! You 
are confronted by this man {pointing to Lew.) to be dealt with 
justly. And you {to Chuf.), for the love of your old friend, 
speak out, good fellow. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 65 

{Puts his hatid on Chuf.'s shoulder and brings him for- 
ward ^ R. C.) 

Chuf. (r. c). I have been silent for his love. He urged 
me to do it. He made me promise it upon his dying bed. 1 
never would have spoken but for your finding out so much. 
We were at school together, he and 1. I couldn't turn against 
his son, you know, his only son. He never spoke unkindly 
to me, and I always understood him. I could always see him, 
too, though my sight was dim. Well, well ! He's dead, he's 
dead. (Sarah, who has been glancing out of window, leaves 
room by door in fiat,) But where is she? She has not come 
home ! 

Old M. Do you mean his wife ? 

Chuf. Yes. 

Old M. I have removed her. She is in my care, and will 
be spared the present knowledge of what is passing here. She 
has known misery enough, without that addition. 

(Jonas, appalled, starts as if he would attempt to escape, but 
sinks into the chair with stark, staring eyes.) 

Chuf. But you're wrong, you're wrong. Have patience, 
for the truth is only known to me ! 

Old M. How can that be? You said just now, above 
stairs, that you knew he was his father's murderer. 

Chuf. (wildly). Aye, yes ! And so he was ! But not as 
you suppose. Stay ! Give me a moment's time. I have it all 
here. (Strikes his head.) All here ! It was foul, cruel, bad ; 
but not as you suppose. He bought the stuff (stretching out his 
arm toward ]Q'i^ as), no doubt, as you have heard, and brought 
it home. He mixed the stuff — look at him — with some sweet- 
meat in a jar, exactly as the medicine for his father's cough 
was mixed, and put it in a drawer; in that drawer yonder in 
the desk ; he knows which drawer I mean ! He kept it there 
locked up. But his courage failed him, or his heart was 
touched— and he did not put it in the usual place, where my 
old master would have taken it twenty times a day. (Jonas 
cowers down into his chair.) He put it in that drawer, as 1 
have said. He went so often there and was so secret, that his 
father took notice of it, and when he was out, had it opened. 
We were there together, and v/e found the mixture, Mr. Chuz- 
zlewit and I. He took it into his possession, and made light 
of it at the time; but in the night he came to my bedside, 



66 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

weeping, and told me that his own son' had it in his mind to 
poison him. " Oh, Chuff ! " he said. " Oh, dear old Chuff ! 
A voice came into my room to-night and told me that this 
crime began with me. It began when 1 taught him to be too 
covetous of what 1 have to leave, and made the expectation of 
it his great business!" Those were his very words! ''He 
shall not weary for my death, Chuff; I have sov/n and 1 must 
reap. He shall believe that I am taking this, and when 1 see 
that he is sorry I'll tell him that 1 found it out, and I'll forgive 
him." (Chuf. pauses to wipe his eyes. Old M. has sunk 
into a chair J u. c, with his face hidden in his hands. Jonas 
has looked up and shows by his expression that he has hopes 
to escape.') My dear old master made believe next day that 
he had opened the drawer by mistake, and had been surprised 
to find his fresh supply of medicine in such a place. We burnt 
it ; but his son believed that he was taking it — he knows he 
did. (Jonas, giving a short dry cough, cJianges his positioft 
for an easier ofie, atid folds his ar7ns without lookifig at them.) 
My old master sank and altered from the time he came to me 
in the night, and never held up his head again. And then his 
heart broke. 'Twas only a few days, but he had never changed 
so much in twice the years. " Spare him, Chuff ! " he said to 
me. I promised him I would. I've tried to do it. He's his 
only son. 

{His voice fails him, and making a motion with his ha?id he 
retreats to his corfier by the fireplace and sits there bowed 
with grief. ) 

* Jonas {risi?tg). Well! Are you satisfied? Or have you 
any more of your plots to broach ? Why, that fellow, Lew- 
some, can invent 'em by the score. Have you nothing else ? 
This place is not attached to you and you can't leave it too 
soon. And for my wife, old man, send her home straight or 
it will be the worse for her. It isn't hanging for a man to keep 
a penn'orth of poison for his own purposes and have it taken 
from him by two old crazy jolterheads who go and act a play 
about it. Do you see the door ? 

{Goes up and throws the door open, going down R. by window.) 

Old M. (rising and crossing L. c). Do you see the door? 
Look at it ! 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 67 

{The door opens and Nad. and two policemen^ folloived by 
Sarah, appear on the threshold.^ 

Nad. {lip c). That is the man ! By the window ! (Jonas, 
who has tiirfied, sta?ids as if paralyzed, gazing at Nad. 
Two officers coi?te down and seize and handcuff hivi.^ Let 
no one interfere. I accuse him yonder of the murder of Mr. 
Montague. Our suspicions began {addressing Old M.) in 
a quarrel between this man and another office in which his 
father's life was insured, and which had so much doubt and 
distrust on the subject that he compounded with them and 
took half the money ; and was glad to do it. Bit by bit, 
I've ferreted out more circumstances agamst him. I found 
the nurse — here she is to confirm me (Sarah curtseys') ; I 
found the doctor. I found out how the old gentleman there, 
Mr. Chuffey, had behaved at the funeral ; and I found out 
what this man {touching Lew. on the ami) had talked about 
in his fever. I found out how he conducted himself before his 
father's death, and since ; and putting it carefully together, 
made case enough for Mr. Montague to tax him with the crime, 
which, as he himself believed until to-night, he had committed. 
I have watched him lately, almost without rest or relief. I lit- 
tle thought to what my watching was to lead. As little as he 
did when he slipped out in the night, dressed in those clothes 
which he afterward sunk in a bundle at London Bridge ! 
(Jonas, with a cry, tries to wrench himself free from the of- 
ficers, but they hold him securely.) From that garret window 
opposite, I watched this house and him for days and nights. 
From that garret window opposite, I saw him return home, 
alone, from a journey on which he had set out with Mr. Mon- 
tague, and, standing at the door opposite, after dark that same 
night, I saw a countryman steal out of this house, by a side 
door in the court, who had never entered it. I knew his walk, 
and that it was himself, disguised. I followed him immediately, 
but lost him on the western road. I knew he would come back, 
as he had gone out, when this part of the town was empty, and 
for his coming back I watched. Early in the morning, the 
same countryman came creeping home. I kept at the window 
all day. At night I saw him come out with a bundle. I fol- 
lowed him again. He went down the steps at London Bridge 
and sunk it in the river. It contained the clothes I had seen 
him wear, stained with clay and spotted with blood. The war- 
rant has been out, and these officers have been with me some 



68 THE CHUZZLEWITS 

hours. We chose our time; and seeing you come in, and 
seeing this person at the window {indicating Sarah) 

Sarah. Beckoned to 'er to open the door; which she did 
with a deal o' pleasure. 

Nad. That's all at present. Are you ready, officer? 

Officer. All ready, sir. 

Jonas. Oh, miserable, miserable fool ! To find alive and 
active — a party to it all — the brain and right hand of the secret 
1 had thought to crush ! 

{Putting his fettered hands before his eyes he is led out by 
the officers^ followed by Nad. and Lew.) 

Old M. {to Sarah). You gave my message to my nephew, 
Martin Chuzzlewit, Mrs. Gamp? 

Sarah. I did, sir, and you never see a gentleman more sur- 
pridged in all your born days. 

Old M. What more did you tell him ? 

Sarah. Why, sir, 1 should 'ave liked to tell 'im a deal 
more, but not bein' able, I didn't tell it, sir. 

Old M. For what does he suppose that he is to come here ? 

Sarah. 'E don't know what to suppose, sir. I told 'im 
that you said to 'im, through me, "Can you be 'ere by ten in 
the mornin' ? " That's all, sir. 

Old M. Now you can take Mr. ChufFey to his room, and 
after, I want you to tend the outer door — give admission to vis- 
itors, I mean, when they knock. 

Sarah. Suttinly, sir. {Goes to Chuf., 2£/A^ is dozing in 
chair by fireplace^ aiid wakes him with a poke. ^ There's my 
blessed old chick ! There's my darlin' Mr. Chuffey ! {Raises 
hifn from his chair.) Now come up to your own room, sir, 
and lay down on your bed a bit; for you're a-shakin' all over, 
as if yer precious jints was hung on wires. That's a good 
creetur ! Come with Sairy ! [Exit door in fiat with Chuf. 

Old M. {closing door after them, and pausing up c). My 
cherished projects, so long hidden in my own breast, so fre- 
quently in danger of abrupt disclosure through the bursting 
forth of the indignation I have hoarded up during my residence 
with Pecksniff, are now approaching their fruition. To-day I 
shall set Pecksniff right, and Pecksniff's victims, too. They 
have severally been notified to meet here at ten o'clock to-day. 
It is near that now. {Knock at street door.) Ah! {Asstimes 
his former weak aspect.) My first guests are arriving. 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 69 

(Si^s in Chuf.'s c/iair at fireplace.) 
Enter Sarah, ushermg in Tom arid Mary. 

Sarah (announci?ig). Miss Graham. Mr. Pinch. 

[Exit. 

Mary (crossing and kissing Old M.). Why, Mr. Chuzzle- 
wit, how came you here, alone ? 

Old M. Sit down, my dear. (Mary looki?ig surprised, 
sits in chair l. of fireplace.) Ah, Mr. Pinch, your hand. 

(Tom comes forward and shakes hafids with Old M. Another 
knock. All look toward door. ) 

Enter Mar. 

Mar. (starting forward). Mary ! 

Old M. (holding up his hand, without looking at M.pc^.). 
Sit there. (Points to chair on other side of room. Mar. 
pauses, looks at Mary, ivho smiles reassuringly, and he crosses 
to r. and sits. Another knock.) Set the door open, Mr. 
Pinch, and come here. 

(Tom opens door wide and returns to Old M.) 

Peck, (outside). Where is my venerable friend ? (Enters 
quickly afid starts back on seeing who are with Old M.) My 
venerable friend is well ? 

Old M. Quite well. 

Peck, (clasping his hands and looking tip in ecstasy) . Thank 
heaven for that. Ah, my venerable friend ! Why this flight ? 
How could you ever leave me ? You have absented yourself 
upon some act of kindness to me, I do not doubt, or you have 
been moved to do some service to this ingrate. (Looks at 
Tom, and the Jt at Mar.) Oh, vermin ! Oh, bloodsuckers ! 

Tom (starting toward V-kcvl.). How dare you, sir? 

Peck, (ivaving Tom aside and crossifig to Old M.). My 
venerable friend, this is no place for you. (To Mary.) My 
dear young lady, help me to remove this patriarchal gentleman, 
to whose tottering limbs I have the honor to act as an un- 
worthy, but, I hope, an unassuming prop, to a place of security. 
My dear sir, come. 

Tom (c). Mr. Pecksniff, will you answer me one question ? 

Peck. (l. c). I cannot answer questions. I can only say, 
unnatural plunderers and robbers, begone. 



70 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



( Waves his Juuid toward door.') 



Tom. I — I don't want to bluster, but I tell you I will be 
heard, and answered, too. I ask you why 1 was dismissed ? 

Peck, (^sweetly). Because, Tom Pinch, since you compel 
me to address you, because you were an ungrateful worm, who 
turned upon the hand that fed you and made use of your posi- 
tion to insinuate yourself into the affections of Miss Graham. 

Mary {advancing to the side of Tom). That is not true. 

Peck. My dear Miss Graham, this outburst is unseemly. 

Mary. Vou it was who insulted the girl you should have 
protected. The story you have just repeated, of which I never 
heard till now, is a fiction of your own inventing. 

Peck. (l. c). Observe ! You are agitating your helpless 
friend here. (Mary crosses to Old M. Tom crosses to Mar., 
R. Old M. leaiis forward, grasping his stick ofi which he 
rests his chin. Peck, crosses c.) He has accepted my assur- 
ance upon the unhappy matter, and is content to repose peace- 
fully in the bosom of virtue. {Taps himself.) 

Tom (r. c). Virtue ! You thrust your odious attentions 
on that young lady by force, and when you knew that she had 
confided the story of your persecution to me, you thought you 
could hide the disgrace of the discovery by getting rid of the 
pupil you had so long imposed upon. That is why you dis- 
missed me. 

Peck. Miss Graham, we will resume the discussion on our 
return to our venerable friend's hotel. I will first put you into 
a coach, and then {Goes as if to take Mary's hatid.) 

Mar. {risifig and crossing R. c). ' If you lay a hand on 
that lady, Pecksniff, in my presence, I'll take you by the neck 
and thrust you into the street. 

Peck, {dodging and going quickly down L.). You may be- 
stride my senseless corse, sir, that is very likely, but while I 
continue to be called on to exist you must strike at this worthy 
gentleman through me. My dear Mary, come, we will depart 
together. 

(Peck, starts to go to Mary, who is r. of Old M., when 
the latter suddenly starts up and fells Peck, with a blow 
from his cane.) 

Old M. Take him out of my reach, or I cannot help my- 
self. The strong restraint I have put on my hands has palsied 
them. (Peck, rises slowly, picks up his hat and crosses c.) 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 7I 

What ! Do you know me as I am at last ? Rascal ! (Peck. 
wipes his forehead with his handkerchief and smiles in a feeble 
ivay.) Martin, look at him {poi7iting to Peck.), and come 
here. (Mar. crosses to him. Old M. holds hi?n to his heart.) 
Knd you {to Peck.), look here! here! here! (^Each time 
presses Mar. to him.) The passion I felt, Martin, when I 
dared not do this, was in the blow I struck just now. Why did 
we part? How could you fly from me to him? (Mar. is 
about to speak.) No, no, the fault was mine as well as yours. 
I made no allowance for the rashness of youth. Mary, my love, 
come here. (Mary goes to him.) Observe, I put myself in 
that man's hands on terms as base and degrading to himself 
as I could put them in words. If he had offered me one word 
of remonstrance in favor of the grandson whom he supposed I 
had disinherited, I think I could have borne with him. But 
not a word — not a word. 

Peck, {shedding tears). Mr. Chuzzlewit, I cannot be angry 
with you. But did you never, my dear sir, suggest that your 
grandson should be dismissed from my house? Recollect 
yourself, my Christian friend. 

Old M. Yes, 1 did express the wish. I thought I should 
open his eyes by presenting you before him in your own servile 
character. (Peck, bows as if he had been paid acojnpliment.) 
My scheme has succeeded better than I thought, for it has not 
only proved him, but it has brought my grandson to my feet. 
And it has proved the constancy and truth of Mary, and it has 
brouglit me to know the goodness and simplicity and manly 
faith of Tom Pinch. 

Peck. Mr. Chuzzlewit, sir. You have partaken of my hos- 
pitality. 

Old M. And paid for it. {Points Peck, to door.) 

Peck. Thank you. {Edges gradually nearer the door, to 
which Old M. is pointing with his stick.) I have been struck 
this day with a walking-stick, which I have every reason to be- 
lieve has knobs upon it, on that delicate and exquisite portion 
of the human anatomy, the brain. Several blows have been 
inflicted, sir, without a walking-stick, upon that tenderer por- 
tion of my frame, my heart. If you ever contemplate the silent 
tomb, sir, which you will excuse me for entertaining some doubt 
of your doing, after your conduct this day, think of me. If 
you should wish to have anything inscribed upon your silent 
tomb, sir, let it be that 1 — ah, my dear sir, 1, the humble indi- 
vidual, who has now the honor of reproaching you, forgave you. 



72 



THE CHUZZLEWITS 



(As he gets closer to the door, he keeps his eyes on Old M.) 
Good -morning. Bless you, sir. Bless you. 

\^Exit quickly y door in flat. 

Old M. Martin, that ghoul has set Mary's hand trembiiiiSj 
strangely. See if you can hold it. (Places Mary's hand in 
Mar.'s; they go down l. ; he crosses c.) Come here, Tom 
Pinch. {To Tom, who has remained at r. Tom comes to 
Jiijn, R. c.) Your place is here, in the midst of all this hap- 
piness, not outside it. 

Mar. {crossi?ig to Tom). Tom, old fellow, congratulate me. 

Tom. I do with all my heart. 

(^Shakes Mar.'s hand. Mar. steps back; Mary crosses to 
Tom and holds out her hand to him. He takes it and 
sloiuly kisses her ; then sinks into chair, r. c. Old M. 
goes to sideboard and pours out four glasses of wine from 
deca?iter. ) 

Mar. ( going to Mary, and with his arm about her stafiding 
by Tom's chair). We shall have the little organ in the dark- 
ened room after all, I'om ! 

Tom (leaning over the ariti of his chair wistfully, and half 
aside). Yes, and the T. P. C.'s on the pinafores, eh, Martin ? 

Mar. Yes, Tom, yes ! 

Old M. (comi7ig down R. ^Tom and passing wine to Mar., 
Mary and Tom, a?id holding glass himself ). To-day, before 
I leave you, 1 wish you to join me in drinking one toast. Tom 
Pinch's health. Tom Pinch, whom we all love ! The good 
fellow whose truth and simplicity disposed me, when I doubted 
every one, to believe in better things. Tom Pinch ! Thought- 
ful of other people, forgetful of himself, patient, loving and 
lovable, Tom Pinch, we drink to you. 

( They lift their glasses to him. He sits with his glass rest- 
ing on the arm of his chair, his face beaming with smiles.) 



CURTAIN 



Should he played by 
boys sixteen and 
seventeen years 
old. 



A REGULAR RAH I RAH I BOY 

A Comedy in Three Acts 
By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 
Fourteen male characters, sixteen or seventeen years old. Costumes, 
moaern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and three-quarters. An 
ingenious and interesting story of football politics, into the plot of which 
the " movies " enter as a detective agency. Fred Williamson's unex- 
pected talents as a photo-play comedian get him into all kinds of trouble. 
Full of the true college atmosphere, lively, bright and a sure hit. Strongly 
recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 

Le Roy Briggs, captain of the football team 
Sam Bigelow, centre 
Fred Williamson, quarter back 
Harold Smith, half back 
Philip Ainsworth, sub 
Dick Colton, sub. 
Russell Sydney "| 

Leonard Ferguson \ Juniors. 
Stephen Reynolds J 

Clayton Ki^q, football coach and instructor in Milford Academy. 
Murphy, trainer. 
Mr. Deane, an instructor. 

Alexander Norton, Manager of the Star Moving Picture Theatre. 
Jimmy Colton, Dick" s little brother, " a regular rah I rah! boy.'* 
Extra schoolboys and visitors for acts two and three, 

ON THE QUIET 

A Comedy in Two Acts 

By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 
Twelve male characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, a single interior. 
Plays an hour and a half. A picturesque and exciting story of the 
Maine Woods. Some Dartmouth freshmen, camping out, become the 
victims of a practical joke by one of their number who tires of the unex- 
citing life of the camp. They discover a note telUng of a brutal murder 
in the woods and in their pursuit of the criminal through clews ingeniously 
furnished by the joker, they get a lot of inoffensive people into a sad 
mix-up, with the aid of Jeremiah Hincks, a rustic Sherlock Holmes. 
Very swift and lively and strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

HIRAM JONES' BET 

A Farce in One Act 
By May E. Countryman 
One male, two females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an interior. 
Plays twenty minutes. Hiram Jones, an incurable maker of bets, in- 
veigles two ladies into making wagers with him in regard to the loan of a 
patent egg-beater ; he thinks that he has a safe thing on both, but dis- 
covering his plot, the ladies get together and so arrange matters that he 
loses both bets. Very lively, bright and funny and a sure thing with an 
audience. Price, 75 cents 



THE VILLAGE POST-OFFICE 

An Entertainment in One Scene by Jessie A. Kelley. Twenty-two 
males and twenty females are called for, but one person may take several 
parts and some characters may be omitted. The stage is arranged as a 
country store and post-office in one. Costumes are rural and funny. 
Plays a full evening. Full of " good lines " and comical incident and 
character. Strongly recommended for church entertainments or general 
use ; very wholesome and clean. Price, 2^ cents 

MISS FEARLESS & CO. 

A Comedy in Three Acts by Belle Marshall Locke. Ten females. 
Scenery, two interiors ; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. A bright 
and interesting play full of action and incident. Can be strongly recom- 
mended. All the parts are good. Sarah Jane Lovejoy, Katie O'Connor 
and Euphemia Addison are admirable character parts, and Miss Alias and 
Miss Alibi, the " silent sisters," offer a side-splitting novelty. 
Pricey 2^ cents 

LUCIA'S LOVER 

A Farce in Three Acts by Bertha Currier Porter. Eight females. Cos- 
tumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a half. A 
bright and graceful piece, light in character, but sympathetic and amusing, 
Six contrasted types of girls at boarding-school are shown in a novel story. 
Lots of fun, but very refined. Easy to produce and can be strongly 
recommended. Price, 23 cents 

A GIRL IN A THOUSAND 

A Comedy in Four Acts by Evelyn Gray "Whiting. Fourteen females. 
Costumes, modern ; scenes, three interiors and an extei'ior. Plays a full 
evening. Very strong and sympathetic and of varied interest. Irish 
comedy ; strong " witch " character ; two very lively " kids " ; all the 
parts good. Effective, easy to produce, and can be strongly recommended 
as thoroughly wholesome in tone as virell as amusing. Price, 2^ cents 

MRS. BRIGGS OF THE POULTRY YARD 

A Comedy in Three Acts by Evelyn Gray "Whiting. Four males, seven 
females. Scene, an interior ; costumes, modern. A domestic comedy 
looking steadfastly at the " bright side " of human affairs. Mrs. Briggs is 
an admirable part, full of original humor and quaint sayings, and all the 
characters are full of opportunity. Simply but effectively constructed, and 
written with great humor. Plays two hours. Price, 2^ cents 

TOMMY'S WIFE 

A Farce in Three Acts by Marie J. Warren. Three males, five females. 
Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays an hour and a half. 
Originally produced by students of Wellesley College. A very original 
and entertaining play, distinguished by abundant humor. An unusually 
clever piece, strongly recommended. Price^ 2j cents 



ENGAGED BY WEDNESDAY 

A Farce in Three Acts 
By Grace Arlington Owen 
Five males, eleven females. Costumes, modern ; scenery of little im 
portance. Plays an hour and a half. Arthur Watson and Lucile Persons, 
long destined for one another by their respective mammas, are suddenly 
told, alter a separation of seven years, that they are to get engaged at once. 
Neither likes the idea, and being personally unknown to one another, each 
persuades three friends to masquerade under their names for a day. The 
result is bewilderingly funny. Very easy, funny and effective. Strongly 
vecommended for schools. 

Price, 23 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Martin Henry, the laziest man in the county, 

Arthur Watson. 

Jack, ] 

Ted, \ frietids of Arthur s. 

Dick, ) 

Miss Abigail Persons, a woman of ideas, 

Mrs. Watson, a gentle person. 

Lucile Persons. 

Marie, j 

Jane, \ friends of Lucile. 

Mabel, ) 

Mary, Martin Henry s atmt; cook at the Person^, 

First Girl. 

Second Girl. 

First Gypsy. 

Second Gypsy. 

THE TEMPLETON TEAPOT 

A Farce in One Act 

By Grace Cooke Strong 
Four males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an interior. 
Plays thirty minutes. The Templeton Teapot, a priceless antique, gets 
tangled up with a modern love-affair and has some strange adventures in 
consequence, getting the hero arrested as a burglar and every one else 
sadly mixed up. Bright, brisk and entertaining. Recommended for 
acliools. Price, 13 cents 

THE TURN IN THE ROAD 

A Comedy in Two Acts 
By Gladys Ruth Bridgham 
Nine males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, a single interior. Plays 
an hour and a hilf. Hiram Skinner's cow gets mixed up with some 
Colton University students and, besides causing more or less fun and 
excitement, brings it about that the most insigniticant " grind " in college 
is about the best man there. Sympathetic and interesting. A good 
high school play. Price, ij cents 



CRANBERRY CORNERS 

A Comedy Drama in Four Acts 

By Arthur Lewis Tubbs 

Six males, six females. Scenery, one exterior, one interior ; costumes, 
modern. Plays two and a quarter hours. Carlotta, a city girl, is forced 
by her fashionable aunt to give up her country lover and promise to marry 
a wealthy scoundrel who controls the aunt through her past. Tom, tlie 
rustic lover, discovers Carlotta's father in a tramp, clears his name, baffles 
the aunt and frustrates her plot. Dramatic and full of interest ; strongly 
recommended. Lots of incidental comedy. 
Price, 25 cents 



CHARACTERS 

Tom Dexter, one of Nature's noblemen, 

Sidney Everett, of the worid worldly, 

Ben Latham, a wanderer. 

Andrew Dexter, Tom s father. 

Hezekiah Yiom^i^s, fond of an argument, 

Nathan Speck, the hired man. 

Carlotta Bannister, a child of fate. 

Anastasia Bannister, her " stylish "aunt, from New York. 

Amelia Dexter, sister of Andrew. 

Mrs. Muslin, something of a talker, '* as you might say." 

Bella Ann, help at the farm. 

Florine, a maid. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act L— The yard at Ferndale Farm, Cranberry Corners, on 
an afternoon in July. The telegram. 

Act II.— Same as Act I, about a week later. The stranger. 

Act III.— Residence of Mrs. Bannister, New York City. Three 
months have elapsed. In the hands of fate. 

Act IV.— Back at the farm, two weeks later. The silver lining. 



VEAL BREADED 

A Comedy in One Act 

By John M. Francis 

Three males, three females. Costumes, modern; scene, an interior. 
Plays thirty-five minutes. Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong have married one 
another, both hating veal, but each under a fixed impression that the other 
likes it. One of the results of a little flirtation of their friend Joyce with 
Mrs. A.'s pretty aunt is that the truth comes out and the hated meat is no 
longer the cause of trouble between them. Very original and amusing 
and strongly recommended. French dialect comedy character. 
Pricct IS cents 



A NEW START 

A Comedy in Four Acts 

By C, A. Pellanus 

Seven males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors 

Plays an hour and a half. A very funny play intended for performance 

by boys or youhg men. 

CHARACTERS 
Mr. W. Wrightup, alias \ a medical 

Dr. Phil Graves. R.S.V.P., P.T.O. j student. 
Michael Spowder, his servant, from lipperary. 
CoLOWEL Ailment, a patient. 
Miss O'Phee, a patient. 
Thomas Wrotter, an ambitious youth. 
Mrs. Langwidge, his aunt, of British origin, 
Mr. Percy Veering, an attorney. 
A Laboring Man. 

Pricey 75" cents 

TOO CLEVER BY HALF 

A Comedy in Three Acts 
By C. A. Pellanus 
Six males, two females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors, 
j^lays an hour and a quarter. Very lively and funny ; intended for per* 
fotaiance by boys or young men. 

CHARACTERS 
JUDGg Simeon Adams, a well-to-do, kindly, po7npous old bachelor. 
Miss Burgess, his housekeeper. With matrimonial schemes. 
Nathan Dean, the village constable. Fat-witted, and gullible, 
Howard Foster, a Pinkerion detective. Too clever by half. 
Monsieur Gaspard, a Chef d' Orchestre. 

A Sharp f ^^^^^^'^^^' Britishers. 
LrXfsS. Wordy, landlady of the village inn. 
Price, 75 cents 

THE FIRST DAY OF THE HOLIDAYS 

A Comedy in Four Acts 
By C. A. Pellanus 
Six male characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays 
an hour and a half. An exceptionally brisk and humorous piece intended 
for male characters only. 

CHARACTERS 
Prof. B. Willdard, a naturalist. A short-sighted old man. 
Job Shirker, a shoe7naker. Envious of other meii s success. 
Joseph Shirker, his son. A tramp. 
Henry Copper, a police officer and a duffer, born in England. 

Jim Bounde^ } ^<^^<^olboys. Impertinent and full of high spirits. 
Pricet IS cents 



THE HEIRESS HUNTERS 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By Walter Ben Hare 

Seven males, seven females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors 
and an exterior. Plays two hours and twenty minutes. Upon the dark 
days of Tom, Dick and Harry, author, artist and musician respectively, 
starving in a New York garret under the dominion of the Widow Wood, 
dawns the radiant vision of Amethyst Lake, heiress and belle of Kokomo, 
and a lively competition for her affections at once ensues, greatly compli- 
cated by divers previous attachments to La Lolita, the Widow and other 
energetic ladies. Two hours of highly amusing excitement ; all the parts 
good; very funny. Professional stage-rights reserved. Well recommended. 
Price, 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 
Tom Timmons, author 1 The 

Dick Chetwynd [Lord Richard Chetwynd), artist > Heiress 
Harry Clive, musician J Hunters, 

Major Morann, Toin s uricle and Amethysf s guardian. 
Whimper, the only butler in Kokomo. 
Amethyst Lake, the heiress. 
Nell Gray, a true Ai7ierican girl. 
La Lolita, a model young lady from Spain. 
Mrs. Ballou, Amethysf s aunt, with social aspirations. 
The Widow Wood, who could blaine her? 
John Patrick Wood, aged fourteen. 
Pandora Wood, aged thirteen. 
RosELLA Wood, aged six \ ^ . . . ^ 
BijAH Wood, a mere splinter \ ^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^"'^' 

SYNOPSIS 

Act L — The Castle of the Three Musketeers. Off for Kokomo. 

Act II. — The lawn at Lakemont, Kokomo, Indiana. The 
Widow Wood. 

Act III. — Evening party at Lakemont. Cupid shoots right and 
left. 



THE GREAT CHICKEN CASE 

A Mock Trial 

By Allan Burns 

Eight males, four females and jury. Costumes, modern ; scenery, un- 
important. Plays one hour and forty-five minutes. Henry Henpeck is 
charged with the larceny of one chicken intended for the consumption of 
the Ladies' Aid Society of Pumpkin Corners. Very funny and full of 
local hits, adapted to any locality. Two songs introduced, if desired. A 
strong addition to the too small list of such entertainments. 
Price^ 2^ cents 



LOVE AND TEA 

A Comedy Drama of Colonial Times in Two Acts 

By Anna Phillips See 

Two males, six females. Scenery, a single interior ; costumes of the 

period. Plays an hour and a half. Miss Boltvvood, a despotic spinster, 

joins a band of ladies who forswear tea until the war is over. Her niece, 

Betty, whose engagement she opposes, catches her in the act of secretly 

indulging and thus forces her consent. A clever and amusing picture of 

the period that can be strongly recommended. Fine colored comedy 

character. All the parts good. 

Price, 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 

Miss Lavinia Bolt wood, a despotic spinster, 

Betty Boltwood, her niece. 

Mrs. Cowles, a neighbor. 

Mrs. Adams, another. 

Mrs. Strong, the village gossip. 

Mandy, slave of Miss BoltwoocV s. 

Judge Ingram, a middle-aged bachelor of mild Tory sentiments, 

William Dickinson, a fiery young minuicman. 

SYNOPSIS 
Act I. — The living-room of a comfortable village home, a few 
days after the Battle of Lexington. 

Act II. — The same, not long after the Battle of Bunker Hill. 

THE HAPPY DAY 

A Farce in One Act 
By Octavia Roberts 
• Seven female characters. Scene, an interior ; costumes, modern. Plays 
half an hour. Sybil Marlowe, a bride, worried to death by the burden of 
preparation for a fashionable wedding and on the eve of a quarrel with 
her fiance over the strenuous entertainments of her friends, cuts the knot 
when an impossible country cousin turns up with a demand to serve as 
bridesmaid, and gets married on the quiet. Very bright and lively and 
strongly recommended. Price, /j" cents 

THIS IS SO SUDDEN 

A Farce in One Act 

By Macpherson Janney 

Five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, a single easy interior. 

Plays twenty minutes. Jack, a male, who does not appear, and who has 

been living on intimate platonic terms with three " bachelor girls " for a 

long time, is suddenly seized with a bad attack of " matrimonium 

tremens " and at the opening of the piece has suddenly proposed to all 

tliree of them with explosive results. The excitement is great while it 

lasts, but it finally appears that two of the three are protected by the 

vaccination of previous engagements, so that the right one gets him. 

Very bright, animated and funny. Well recommended. 

Price, IS cents 



Two New Prompt Books 

Edited by 
GRANVILLE BARKER 



THE WINTER'S TALE 

By William Shakespeare 

An acting edition ivith a producer'' s preface by Gran-vil/e Barker 

JVith Costume Designs by Albert Rothenstein 
As produced by Lillah McCarthy at the Sa-voy Theatre^ London 

An admirable stage version of this play suitable for school performanccj 
if desired, under simplified conditions as to scenery. Mr. Rothenstein's 
illustrations contain many helpful suggestions as to costuming. 
Price, 2^ cents 

TWELFTH NIGHT 

By William Shakespeare 

An acting edition ivith a producer" s preface by Granville Barker 
With Illustrations and Costume Designs by Norman Wilkinson 
As produced at the Savoy Theatre, London, by Lillah McCarthy 

Uniform in appearance and style with the above and similarly helpful 
for performance by amateurs as well as by professional talent. 
Price, 2J cents 

Mr. Barker's " producer's prefaces " are a trial step in the direction of 
providing less experienced actors and managers of the great plays with 
the results of an expert consideration of them from an acting standpoint. 
Like Miss Fogerty's admirable work in connection with the five plays 
listed elsewhere, they are designed not merely to answer the questions 
that must arise but to put the inexperienced producer into such a relation 
with the text that his own intelligence will be able to cope with his prob- 
lem without help or suggestion. One learns how a man like Mr. Barker 
approaches a play with the idea of staging it, and so how another may do 
the same thing. In this they will be seen to be truly and genuinely 
educational as well as merely helpful. 



Sent postpaid by mail on receipt of price 

Walter H. Baker & Co., 5 Hamilton Place 
BOSTON, MASS, 



B. m. Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 Bcit^ €acb 

Min PHAIMNFI Play ill Four Acts, Six males, five females. 
iTliLr'Vn/lliliEiLi Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. 
Plays two and a half hours. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH Sr^'EigTJ 

7iiales, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. 
Plays a full evening. 

THP PQHlPT ir* ATF ^^^Y i" Foiir Acts. Seven males, five 
IHEi ri\V>rLilVjHl Ej leniales. Scenery, il.ref interiors, rather 
elaborate ; costumes, modern. Plays a full evei.ing. 

TUI7 Cr'ilAm MIQTIJF7QQ Farce in Thre^ Acts. Ninemales, 
IllEi »51*rH-lULlVll01I\L.i31 seven fem;;le.>^. Costumes, mod- 
ern; scenery, three iiiieriors. Plays a full evening. 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^;irI,:ZXi 

females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a 
full eveiiing. 

ClirpCT f A VFNFiFR Con.edy in Three Acts. Seven males, 
OWEiEil Li/\Y £illi/£il\ four feinales. Scene, a single interior, 
costumes, modern. Plays a fuil evening, 

TUr THf TMnrDKni T Comedv in Four Acts. Ten males, 
lllEi inUl^LPEiIxDULil nine females. Scenery, three interi- 
ors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF TIMFQ ConKMlv in Four Acts. Six males, seven females, 
inCi Ilmlji3 Scene u single interior; costumes, modern. Plays 
a full evening. 

THF WFAR'FR QFY Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, 
in£i TT Ei/VJ^.Ej1V. OCjA eight lemales. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors. Plays a^full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 'i.T.'l\ZS.f'^^^?e^\Z: 

Costumes, modern; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Salter ^. pafeer & Companp 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




014 456 475 3 $ 



C|)e 5^(lUam 5^arren Ctiition 
of Paps 



AK Vnil I I¥F IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four 
AD lUU MIVL< II females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, va- 
ried. Plays a full evening. 

r A MIT IF Drama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 
vAlTlllvl^C tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 

IMAOMAtt Play in Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
lllUUiTl/lI\ Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 

IMiDY ^TIIAPT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
iTlill^l J I LAIll males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
period ; scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening. 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE S,°aTetK?ee7/™t;e1: SSsSSfeT 
picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 

DirHFI IFII Play in Five Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scen- 
l\lvllCLflL(li ery elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a full 
evening. 

THF RIVAI^ Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
1111/ niTiiL/iJ Scenery varied; costumes of the period. Plays a 
full evening. 

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER S,X%u; ffilaVf'fcen^e'rfr 
ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOD WILL f^:%trl^. 



three females, 
full evening. 



Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 



Sent prepaid q|i receipt of price by 

Salter !^* TSafeer & Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



• . J. PARKHILL a CO.. PRINTEAS. BOSTON. U.S.A. 



